


Atlantis Beanery

by jujitsuelf



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Atlantis theme park AU, M/M, SGA Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:50:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a beautiful day out. The morning light was clear and crisp and beckoned Rodney outside with tempting fingers which slanted onto the floor of the shop. From his position behind the counter he could just see a portion of perfect blue sky, not a single cloud daring to mar it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for chibifukurou as part of the SGA Reverse Bang. Head over to the comm for links to the awesome artwork which inspired this fic.
> 
> Thank you to Cougar's_Catnip and Peaceful_Sands for the beta work, as ever, it's hugely appreciated!
> 
> ** ** ** 
> 
> Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended
> 
> ** ** **

It was a beautiful day out. The morning light was clear and crisp and beckoned Rodney outside with tempting fingers which slanted onto the floor of the shop. From his position behind the counter he could just see a portion of perfect blue sky, not a single cloud daring to mar it. 

 

It was a day to be outside, living life to its maximum potential, breathing air which hopefully only contained a very low percentage of exhaust fumes and generally enjoying oneself. But Rodney wasn’t outside. As usual, he was stuck in the coffee shop, pasting on a fake smile every time someone opened the door and came in to demand a beverage.

 

The bell over the door tinkled as it was pushed open. Rodney ground his teeth. One day he’d take that bell and smack it with the biggest hammer he could find. He was sure that damned pure tinkle haunted him even in his dreams. Looking up from the cash register, he was relieved to see that it wasn’t a customer who had invaded his space, but Teyla.

 

“Hi,” he nodded to her and went back to the register.

 

“Good morning, Rodney,” Teyla said in her quaint, formal way. “I hope the day finds you well?”

 

“It finds me once again here,” Rodney replied. “But so far it hasn’t turned out to be a total waste of time getting out of bed. However, it is still early so I expect that status to have changed by noon.”

 

“Rodney,” Teyla smiled fondly and leaned on the counter. “I am here to ask a favor of you.”

 

“No,” Rodney said instantly. He’d been party to Teyla’s favors before and still bore the marks. “Whatever you want, no. I’m a very busy man. You can’t talk me into stooging for you again, I don’t care how many people have signed up for your tae bo class or whatever it is you’re calling it now. I am not letting you beat my ass again. I don’t get paid enough.”

 

“I do not teach tae bo,” Teyla’s voice held a trace of impatience. “It is called Escrima and it is an art form.”

 

“Whatever,” Rodney said rudely. “I still don’t get why the owners let you set up a martial arts class here. I mean, theme park, martial arts class, the two don’t naturally mesh together.”

 

“The owners saw that I had skills beyond reading people’s palms and decided that it would be foolish to leave said skills to languish and grow rusty.”

 

“I love the way you talk,” Rodney pushed a carrot muffin toward Teyla. She took it graciously and nibbled at the edge. “So, assuming that you don’t want to hit me with sticks again, what favor are you after?”

 

“Evan requires some help with the bumper cars,” Teyla licked a fingertip and delicately dabbed at a few fallen crumbs on the counter. “He says they are not behaving as they should.”

 

Rodney sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s because he keeps letting Kavanagh loose on them. When will he learn that the man has the mechanical know-how of a shrimp?”

 

“I told him you would stop by this afternoon,” Teyla put in, interrupting Rodney before he could get settled into his rant. “I will be here by two, so you will have time to take a look at the machinery.”

 

“Fine.” Rodney didn’t really mind going to poke at the bumper cars. It meant he could escape the dull air of the shop. He loved coffee, he really did but sometimes the smell of it made him want to hurl. “I’ll get the specials written up on the board, so all you should have to do is serve the drones who decide they need caffeine in order to get them through a day out with their kids.”

 

“Rodney,” Teyla said reprovingly. “That is no way to talk about the people who support out livelihood.”

 

“Livelihood,” Rodney snorted, straightening the cakes and muffins in their display case. “We work at a theme park, Teyla, we’re not part of a traveling circus keeping ancient disciplines alive.”

 

“Speak for yourself, Rodney.” Teyla flashed a smile at him and turned on her heel. “Thank you for the muffin, it is delicious.”

 

She was out of the door before Rodney remembered that he’d have to put the money for that muffin in the register. He cursed, when would he stop falling for that? 

 

With one last glance at the sliver unfairly enticing blue sky, he grabbed the specials board and began to write.

 

# # #

 

Atlantis was one of the USA’s newest theme parks. Rather than trying to compete with the west coast’s massive rollercoasters, the owners had decided to take the idea of the ancient lost city and make it into a fairy tale place ‘for kids of all ages’. 

 

In a barely-veiled imitation of the Disney castle, they’d designed a huge self-contained city complex with rides and attractions hidden among towering spires and intricate winding streets. The tallest of the towers was actually a hotel, with rooms ranging from basic to beyond luxurious. The penthouse at the very top was rumored to be one of the finest hotel rooms money could buy anywhere in the world. Not that too many people got the chance to stay there, the word around the city was that the owner’s son used it as his own private place to crash and was fiercely protective of it. He was also notoriously difficult to get pictures of. For a playboy, he certainly valued his privacy.

 

Rodney McKay worked in the Atlantis Beanery, the city’s on-site coffee shop. It wasn’t the only place to get food and drink in Atlantis but it was by far the most popular. Whether that was because of the quality of the cakes and coffee it served or simply because people heard about the barista with the acid tongue who ran the place and wanted to see whether he was for real, nobody was really sure. 

 

Rodney didn’t care that his shop was the most popular in the city. He didn’t care that people came purely to have him insult their choice of beverage. All he wanted was the paycheck that came at the end of each month, most of which was spent on physics books and classes before the money even reached his bank account. 

 

Even so, he had to admit that there were probably worse jobs in the world. There were definitely worse people to work with. 

 

Teyla was a sweetheart, although he’d sooner gouge his own eyeballs out than admit that in public. She was the city’s resident fortune teller, people saw her calm face and instantly trusted her to tell them their futures. Rodney had never allowed her to read his palm, all that mumbo jumbo about life lines and heart lines made him vaguely uncomfortable. She also helped out in the coffee shop three afternoons a week and taught an Escrima class on Monday and Wednesday evenings. She was a busy lady but always had time to stop by and give Rodney a warm smile. 

 

Evan Lorne was in charge of the bumper cars, the city’s most popular ride. He was bouncy and enthusiastic, with blue eyes and white teeth, the perfect all-American boy. All he had to do was smile at the harassed mothers passing by with crowds of kids in tow and they’d happily pay the price of admission for their little horrors to go and give one another whiplash. Sometimes Lorne’s effervescent nature was a little too much for Rodney to take. But Rodney still denied any and all involvement in the hash brownie incident. Although, Lorne had been wonderfully mellow for a few days afterward.

 

Ronon Dex was the current headliner at the city’s circus ring. Rodney hadn’t actually found the time to catch his act yet but he had seen the big man practicing with a number of fearsome looking swords and other assorted weapons. What he actually did with them was probably best left to Rodney’s imagination, but the crowds seemed to love him and kept on flocking back day after day.

 

In their infinite wisdom, the city’s owners had decided that no theme park was complete without a house of horrors. Unfortunately the person they hired to run said house was more of a horror than the things he created to scare children into years of therapy. Todd was, well, Rodney didn’t really know how to describe him. Todd was...odd. Possessed of a wickedly black sense of humor, he took great delight in watching the faces of those poor unfortunates who entered his house, on CCTV. The more freaked out and frightened they became, the more he seemed to enjoy himself. Fear smelled nice, or so he said. Todd had a penchant for floor length leather coats and knee high boots. His long hair was bleached white and Rodney swore he powdered his naturally pale skin to an even more milky tone. It was a miracle the house of horrors was still running, most visitors took one look at the forbidding entrance Todd had created and backed away, heading for the safer pastures of cotton candy and Lorne’s bumper cars. 

 

So, Rodney mused as he stacked clean cups behind the counter. As sucky as having to work was, it really could be worse. At least he could dose Lorne with hash and laugh at Todd’s latest leather purchase (behind his back, of course) and Teyla was more of a sister to him than Jeannie had ever been. All in all, Atlantis was an okay place to waste his life.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Rodney?”

 

Rodney glanced up from his book, another physics journal, God, how did some people get their ideas published when they were just so very, very, inexcusably wrong?

 

“Elizabeth.” He scrambled to his feet, brushing muffin crumbs off of his shirt front. “I was just on break.”

 

“I know, Rodney, it’s fine,” Elizabeth smiled. She was the head of Atlantis’ recruitment and staffing department, basically in charge of hiring and firing everyone who worked at the park. As the owners were reclusive types, lately they’d been leaving more of the day to day running of the place to her and Rodney squirmed as he realized that he had coffee stains on his pants and frosting smeared on his shirt. Not the best way to impress one’s boss, even one as nice as Elizabeth.

 

“Rodney,” she went on, not looking at the frosting. “I’d like you to meet our newest employee, John. John, this is Rodney McKay, Rodney is in charge of the Beanery.”

 

Rodney looked around Elizabeth and felt his jaw drop. Wow. John, whoever he was, was absolutely gorgeous. Tanned skin, a hint of bad-boy stubble, long and lean and slouching deliciously against the wall. His dark hair stuck up at wild angles, apparently trying to disprove the law of gravity all by itself. His eyes were hooded and lazy and drew Rodney in like a moth to the proverbial flame. Bedroom eyes. Were they green? No, hazel. It was at times like this that Rodney was intensely glad he’d decided years ago that girls were more trouble than they were worth. Men were more straightforward and far prettier.

 

“Rodney?” Elizabeth’s voice dragged him back to reality.

 

“Yes,” he said sharply, then softened his tone a little. “Yes, um, pleased to meet you, John. Welcome aboard.” Instantly, he gave himself a mental smackdown. _‘Welcome aboard’,_ what the hell? It was those eyes, he told himself. Those damned hazel eyes were too freakin’ sexy. All of his brains had relocated to a more southerly part of his anatomy, leaving him with only things like ‘welcome aboard’ in his vocabulary.

 

“Hi.” Even though it was only two letters, John managed to drawl them so that they sounded like a whole sentence. 

 

“John’s going to be shadowing you for a few days,” Elizabeth said brightly. “Don’t worry, your job isn’t at risk, this is purely a training thing. Just trying to find out where John’s talents would be best employed.”

 

Rodney’s  
lizard brain said that John’s talents would be best employed on the floor behind the counter, preferably with Rodney on top of him. Luckily he managed to bite the words off before they made it out of his mouth. Maybe his face betrayed him though, as a tiny knowing smile played on John’s lips. Crap. He never had been able to lie very well. His poker career had been disastrously short-lived.

 

“Right,” he said, clipped and brusque. “Fine. Was there anything else?”

 

“Not at the moment,” Elizabeth’s smile didn’t fade. “Thank you, Rodney.”

 

Rodney nodded at her and watched as she walked out of the room. Her heels tip-tapped across the shop floor and that stupid bell tinkled again as she opened the door.

 

“So, what’d you want me to do?” John asked, his vowels long and relaxed as a Malibu sunset.

 

Rodney licked his lips. Was there a polite way to say he didn’t really want John to do anything beside stay out of his way and look pretty? No, probably not. Instead he frowned and said, “I’m confused. Why has Elizabeth dumped you with me? I didn’t even know we were hiring, what job did you apply for exactly?”

 

John shrugged, fluid and easy. “Just a general dogsbody type of thing. Guess it’s my lucky day, Ms Weir seemed to like me. Maybe she dumped me with you ‘cause she thinks you can teach me something worth knowing about how to run a coffee shop.”

 

“If you’re a dogsbody shouldn’t you be outside picking up litter?” Rodney grumbled.

 

Another shrug and a lazy grin. “Hey, your guess is as good as mine, buddy.”

 

Rodney swallowed. John looked like he’d just stepped off the beach and sounded like he’d been in California way too long. So Elizabeth wanted him to follow Rodney around for a few days, so what? He was far better looking than most of the people who came into the shop, he’d brighten up the scenery even if he proved to be utterly useless at everything else. And anyway, Rodney wasn’t paid to ask too many questions. He came to work, made coffee, cleaned up and went home to his books. If the management wanted him to show John the ropes, he would. Ours is not to reason why...maybe if he was lucky, John might even prove to have a brain cell or two in that handsome head.

 

“Okay then,” Rodney brushed the last remaining muffin crumbs off his hands and straightened his apron. “Let’s go, nose back to the grindstone, that kind of thing.”

 

# # #

 

John was a genius. No, that wasn’t strictly true. Rodney was a genius, his IQ scores confirmed that. John was more...well he had some kind of indefinable quality about him that seemed to make people like him. 

 

Even during the first few hours he spent with Rodney in the shop, customers came in looking tired and depressed about the amount of money they were spending on rides and attractions and went out with smiles on their faces. John’s sincere ‘you have a good day, now,’ seemed to work its magic every time.

 

“I can never make people look that happy, not even when I give them extra chocolate sprinkles,” Rodney grumbled as yet another girl flashed a hopeful smile at John.

 

John shrugged, it seemed to be his default answer to most things. “Guess you need better sprinkles.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with my sprinkles,” Rodney said defensively.

 

John smirked as though he’d just won an argument Rodney hadn’t realised they were even having. 

 

“You’re annoyingly charming,” Rodney said, glaring at the people at the corner table. Seriously, did they have to talk so loudly?

 

The smirk grew. “Thanks.”

 

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

 

“Should I?”

 

“Most people babble on their first day, nerves or something I suppose. Aren’t you nervous?” Rodney slid a sideways glance at John. His tan went right down his neck and vanished into his open shirt collar. Just how far down did that tan go, Rodney wondered.

 

Instead of answering the question, John smiled at him some more. Rodney opened his mouth to grill him about exactly what he was doing at Atlantis when the shop door opened and Teyla and Lorne walked in.

 

“McKay!” Lorne was his usual bouncy self, Rodney made a mental note to bake more brownies. “We hear there’s a new guy around here someplace. This the guy?” He grinned at John, who nodded amiably.

 

“Yeah, that’s me, the newbie.” John slouched against the counter as though he owned the place, Rodney envied him his easy charm. 

 

“Elizabeth dropped him off here,” he explained as John shook hands with Lorne and Teyla. “Said he’s going to ‘shadow me’ for a couple days. Not sure why, did either of you know we were hiring at the moment? I haven’t seen anyone turning up for interviews.”

 

“I was not aware that the park required more staff,” Teyla said, gazing steadily at John. “But I hope you will enjoy working here, John. Atlantis is a most interesting place to be employed.” Her eyes were shrewd and a little calculating. “We are more of a family than simply work colleagues. We look after one another and keep no secrets. I trust you will like having such a bond.”

 

Rodney frowned, what the hell was she talking about? She was telling the truth, sometimes it did feel like he was working with one big dysfunctional family group, but why mention it to John in terms like that? 

 

“Telling the future again, Teyla?” Lorne asked cheerily. “Can you see whether John likes it here or not?”

 

Teyla smiled slowly. “Evan, as I have told you many times before, the gift does not work that way. I do not ‘tell the future’ as you put it. I merely...sense things about certain people.”

 

Her gaze was still on John, who, Rodney noticed, looked uncomfortable for the first time that afternoon. 

 

“Okay,” he said. “Are you going to buy anything or did you just come to ogle and terrify my new assistant?”

 

Lorne laughed. “Nope, not buying anything, we’re leaving now. Have fun, you two. See you around, John, hope McKay doesn’t scare you off. If you’re still here tomorrow, stop by the bumper cars and I’ll show you the ropes.”

 

John nodded in agreement and farewell and watched as the pair left the shop. 

 

“Teyla’s not always like that.” Rodney wasn’t sure why he felt the need to apologize for her, but he did. “She’s usually so calm and well-adjusted she’d make Mother Theresa look like an adrenaline junkie.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” John shot another of those lazy smiles at him. 

 

Rodney felt something warm and pleasurable curl in his belly. Damn, John really didn’t have to work at the charm, did he?

 

“Show me some more stuff.” 

 

Although he’d usually complain bitterly about being the one saddled with a new guy, Rodney smiled back and explained the intricacies of the coffee grinder with a will. The rest of the day flew by and before he knew it, they were closng the shop and heading out into the park, making for the main exit.

 

“I’m this way,” John jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

 

“Yes,” Rodney nodded, still a little entranced by John’s looks. “Tomorrow. Yeah.”

 

“G’night,” John waved and walked off up the street, vanishing around a corner.

 

“Smooth, McKay,” Rodney berated himself as he wandered home. “Very smooth. The man must think you’re an idiot.” 

 

When he’d eaten and fed Newton, his cat, Rodney sat down with a pile of books and tried to lose himself in the beauty of physics. But somehow it just didn’t hold his attention and he found himself wondering about John. Just who was he? Why had he turned up so unexpectedly? Why had Elizabeth, of all people, bought him to the shop? She had minions who did such jobs for her, why did John warrant such special attention?

 

Even when he’d thrown himself into bed and turned out the light, his brain refused to shut down. John, John, John, the guy was all he could think about. But it was curiosity, pure and simple. He absolutely wasn’t thinking about those hazel eyes or the enigmatic smile or the lean frame hidden beneath John’s baggy surfer-boy clothes. Absolutely not thinking about those things at all. Rodney went to sleep with a smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next two weeks, John proved to be the most useful, helpful and generally likable guy Atlantis had ever employed.

 

Everyone liked him, with the exception of Kavanagh but then Kavanagh didn’t like anyone so it wasn’t really a black mark against John. It was more like extra proof that Kavanagh was in fact the most miserable bastard on earth.

 

John happily dived into the bowels of the bumper car machinery, tweaking and adjusting things which made the cars run more smoothly and consistently than they had since they’d first been installed. Lorne took to grinning at him as though John was his long lost brother. 

 

Ronon’s swords and props for his act were cleaner than they’d ever been and Ronon even grunted, “Hi,” to John when he passed him. Seeing as the big guy was pretty much a master at being non-verbal, this was a big thing.

 

John did everything anyone asked, from blowing up helium balloons for the visiting kids to strolling around the park picking up litter. Nothing was too much trouble, the same easy smile was on his face whether he was up to his elbows in greasy bumper car bits or cleaning the windows of Rodney’s coffee shop.

 

From time to time Teyla still looked at him with an odd expression on her face, half concerned, half assessing. John wouldn’t meet her eyes when she looked like that. It didn’t make sense to Rodney and he tackled Teyla about it one quiet Tuesday afternoon.

 

“So, what’s your problem with John?”

 

“I have no problem with him.” Her voice was as calm as ever but she didn’t meet Rodney’s gaze. 

“Yeah, right,” he snorted. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. It’s like you can’t decide whether he’s a fox in your little Atlantis henhouse or another lost lamb you need to look after.”

 

“Farmyard analogies,” Teyla smiled. “Didn’t you grow up in the city, Rodney?”

 

“Beside the point,” Rodney waved her words away impatiently. “What don’t you like about him?”

 

“I dislike nothing specific about John,” she replied carefully, placing muffins into the display case as though they were tiny works of art. “At times he gives me a certain sense of unease. It is as though he is hiding something from all of us.”

 

“A man’s allowed to have secrets,” Rodney pointed out.

 

“You are very quick to defend him, Rodney.” Teyla’s eyes turned sly. 

 

“I am not,” Rodney protested, but felt heat creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. Damn his fair-skinned ancestors, he could never hide a blush.

 

“He is very handsome, isn’t he?” Teyla had been the first one to figure out that Rodney preferred men. He liked to think it was because he had an open face which rarely hid what he thought, but a worrying thought still niggled at him. Was her fortune telling act just an act or could she really feel things about people? 

 

“If you like the laid-back, hippy surfer boy look,” he shrugged, non-committal and casual.

 

Teyla just looked at him for a minute. Rodney caved.

 

“Okay, yes, he’s handsome. There, I said it, you happy now?”

 

“My happiness is not the issue,” Teyla could avoid a question very well when she put her mind to it. “Yours, however, is.”

 

“Oh, God,” Rodney groaned, wiping a hand over his face. “Tell me you’re not going to try to set me up with him.”

 

“I would not do that, Rodney,” she replied, her face suddenly serious.

 

“Because you feel a suitable amount of sympathy for those forced into entirely awkward blind dates?”

 

Teyla looked at him again.

 

“Right,” Rodney sighed. “Because you don’t trust him.”

 

“I would not wish to see you get hurt.”

 

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Rodney said, suddenly feeling crabby and irritable. “So far he seems to be as straight as a freakin’ arrow. Whether or not I’d get hurt if I went out with him seems to be something of a moot point, don’t you think?”

 

Teyla didn’t reply but inclined her head gracefully. Rodney had no idea what that meant and spent the rest of the afternoon ignoring her. 

 

# # #

 

Another customer smilingly dropped a generous tip into the jar on the counter, John nodded his thanks and waved as the woman left the shop.

 

“How do you do it?” Rodney asked wonderingly. “Nobody ever tips me that much.”

 

“Maybe because you tend to insult people if they order drinks you don’t like?” John said. 

 

“Could be,” Rodney replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “But I think some of ‘em enjoy it.”

 

“Best to stay away from people who enjoy being insulted. They’re a little weird.”

 

“True.” Rodney nodded. “Hold on, you like it when I insult you.”

 

John quickly turned away and made himself busy cleaning the milk frother but Rodney saw that the tips of his slightly Spock-like ears had gone bright red. Huh. That was new. So far nothing he’d said or done had illicted even the faintest blush from John, and he’d been pushing the boundaries of decency sometimes. 

 

What exactly did the reddish ears mean? Was John embarrassed to admit that he kind of enjoyed being bossed around and insulted? Or did he like it because Rodney was the one delivering the barbs? Then again, was Rodney reading far too much into it and merely trying to build a solid foundation on which to constuct some hopes that John might not be one hundred percent straight?

 

“Um.” Okay, Rodney could admit, when it came to talking about things like feelings and relationships, he wasn’t his usual eloquent self.

 

“We’re running low on chocolate chip cookies,” John said. “I’ll go get some more.” He practically ran into the back room to search for more cookies, leaving Rodney to frown and wonder what had just happened.

 

# # #

 

“Wha’ does John talk ‘bout when he’s with you?” Rodney knew he was slurring but was determined it wouldn’t stop him grilling Lorne. 

 

He, Lorne, Teyla, Ronon and a strange little man with an odd foreign name who worked in Elizabeth’s office were in a bar near Atlantis. It was well after the park’s closing time and Rodney had probably had a few too many drinks, but hey, that was what nights out were for, weren’t they?

 

“Lots o’ things,” Lorne replied, busy looking at the world through the bottom of his beer glass. “Work, flying, state o’ the economy, college football, ferris wheels, flying...”

 

“Ya said flying twice,” Rodney pointed out, waving his own glass around somewhat over-zealously, some beer sloshed onto the bar.

 

“Well, he talks ‘bout it a lot.” Lorne signaled to the bartender for another drink. “Ya wan’ one?”

 

“No,” Rodney hiccupped. Damn, he was a cheap drunk sometimes. The world was already spinning faster than it should have been. “Why’s he talk about flying?”

 

“He likes it,” Lorne shrugged dismissively. “Why’s it matter?”

 

Rodney wasn’t quite sure why it mattered, he’d rather lost the thread of the conversation. Stupid alcohol, it killed too many brain cells, he should have more sense than to get drunk. “He talks about ferris wheels?”

 

“He likes them too.”

 

“He’s never talked to me about flying or ferris wheels.” Rodney felt himself descend into a grump and reached for his beer again.

 

“Maybe he likes me more’n you,” Lorne’s teeth gleamed as he grinned. Rodney had to squash down the urge to smack him.

 

He turned to Teyla and said miserably, “John likes Lorne more than me. Why is that?”

 

“’Cause you’re sarcastic and a pain in the ass,” Ronon said, looking at him over the top of Teyla’s head.

 

“Thanks, buddy,” Rodney replied. “Appreciate that.”

 

“No problem,” Ronon downed the rest of his beer and ordered another round for them all.

 

Rodney crossed his arms on the bar and pillowed his cheek on them. “Teyla, why does John talk to Lorne more than me?”

 

“I do not know, Rodney,” Teyla said kindly. “Perhaps he feels that you might not be interested in the subjects he finds enjoyable.”

 

“I like flying!” Rodney protested. “Well, kind of. I like the physics of flight. That’s close enough, isn’t it?”

 

Teyla smiled and ran a hand gently over his hair. “You worry too much, Rodney.”

 

Rodney grunted and wondered whether he’d look like a wimp if he asked the bartender for a long straw so that he could drink his beer without having to lift his head from the bar.

 

A familiar voice behind him made him jump and almost fall off his stool. “Is this a private party or can anyone join in?” 

 

Turning as fast as he did while drunk wasn’t a good idea, the world wobbled dangerously and John’s smiling face swam in and out of focus a few times.

 

“Hi.” It wasn’t his finest moment as far as being a silver-tongued devil went, but it was the best Rodney could do. “Um, no. And yes.” He nudged another bar stool out and hoped John would take the hint and sit down next to him.

 

John did, sliding onto the stool such a slinky way, Rodney’s brain short-circuited for a moment.

 

Teyla came to his rescue, smiling graciously at John before saying, “It is nice to see you, John. Would you care for a drink?”

 

“Thanks,” John nodded to the bartender. “Corona?”

 

The guy nodded and slid an open bottle in front of John a second later. Rodney watched, open-mouthed as John took a long pull at the beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, dark eyelashes fluttering down to his cheeks when he closed his eyes in obvious enjoyment. It shouldn’t have been hot but it really was. Then again, Rodney suspected he was nearing the stage of both drunkenness and infatuation where watching John do his tax return would be a turn on.

 

“You guys do this often?” John asked when he released his grip on his beer.

 

“Nah,” Lorne slurred, slinging an arm around John’s shoulders. “Jus’ now an’ then. Normally when Ro’ney’s got problems, we’re like his agony aunts. Or uncles, ‘cause, you know, I’m a guy and all.”

 

“And what am I?” the little foreign man with the odd name spoke up. “Chopped liver?”

 

“Hi, Doctor Zelenka,” John grinned.

 

“Oh, _that’s_ his name,” Rodney said. “I can never remember it.”

 

“This is because you are very stupid man,” Zelenka said icily.

 

Rodney knew he should have a cutting reply but the beer seemed to have severed the connection between his brain and his mouth. Sarcasm would have to wait till he was sober. He settled for making a face at Zelenka and flipping him the bird. The little man simply rolled his eyes and buried himself back in his beer.

 

John’s quiet laughter made a flush creep up Rodney’s cheeks. 

 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Should’ve told you we were coming out, but it was kind of a spur of the moment thing and you’d already left work. We couldn’t find you.”

 

“But _I_ found _you_.” John shot him a sideways glance beneath his lashes which made Rodney’s stomach do something squirmy and rather nice. “Sorry if I’m crashing the party.”

 

“No, no,” Rodney shook his head forcefully and nearly toppled off his stool again. John’s warm hand closing around his elbow saved him and sent a bolt of desire shooting through him. Damn, he really had it bad. All he had to do was look at John and his brain started supplying all manner of pleasant, if x-rated, daydreams. “If we’d known where you were, we’d have asked you to come. But you did your usual post-work disappearing act.”

 

John shrugged. “Things to do.”

 

“Man of mystery, huh?” Rodney narrowed his eyes. “How come nobody knows anythin’ abou’ you?”

 

“That’d probably be because I don’t tell ‘em anything,” John smiled, perfectly at ease.

 

Rodney opened his mouth to say something else but the room swam and he clutched at the bar for support. John’s hand landed in the small of his back this time and crap if that didn’t feel good.

 

“Whoa, buddy, you okay?” the deep drawl was right next his Rodney’s ear and just thinking of John’s mouth being that close gave him chills.

 

“’M fine,” he mumbled. “Jus’ a little...”

 

“Wasted.” John finished the sentence for him, then pulled him off the stool and onto his feet. Wrapping an arm around Rodney’s waist, he steadied him as the floor tilted at another crazy angle. “Come on, I think it’s hometime for you.”

 

“No,” Rodney protested weakly, “ya jus’ got here.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” John’s voice was low and somehow authoritative. “Come on, home. Which way am I going? Where’s your car?”

 

“Walking,” Rodney managed as John steered him past the others. He waved at Teyla who smiled at him and cast another slightly troubled glance at John. “Apartment’s not far.”

 

 

 

# # #

 

The night air cleared Rodney’s head a little and he regained the ability to string rational sentences together. Walking was still a problem, so John’s arm stayed around his waist, the other man was probably worried Rodney would wander out into the road or something. Rodney wasn’t that drunk but didn’t see the need to enlighten John, having that arm around him was far too enjoyable to give up.

 

It was lucky that he lived so close to Atlantis, Rodney thought as they weaved along the sidewalk. If he lived further away, he might not have John; gorgeous, handsome, enigmatic, mysterious John, taking him home. He truly hoped he wasn’t about to embarrass himself and show just how much he was enjoying the situation, but after a surreptitious glance down, he was reassured that little Rodney was behaving himself.

 

“This is it,” he said as they approached his apartment building. “Second floor.” 

 

They made it into the elevator and down the corridor to Rodney’s front door.

 

“Keys?” John said, propping him against the wall.

 

“I can open my own door, thank you,” Rodney said with great dignity.

 

John just raised his eyebrows. Rodney glanced at the keys in his hand and then the lock he was supposed to get them into. Yeah, letting John do it might be a good idea. Equilibrium wasn’t his friend at that moment. He handed the keys over without a word, then glared at John when he smirked.

 

“Show off,” he muttered as the door swung open a moment later. 

 

John’s smirk grew but he didn’t say anything. Rodney staggered into his apartment, breathing in the scent of stale coffee cups, slowly dying houseplants and cat food. Ahh, home. He suddenly remembered that John was standing in his doorway. 

 

“Um, you can come in, if you’d like.”

 

The smile on John’s face as he stepped through the door wasn’t the usual know-it-all smirk anymore, it was smaller and more hesitant. Rodney licked his lips, God, what he’d give to just kiss the man.

 

“Nice plant,” John nodded at the drooping fern on Rodney’s windowsill.

 

“Gift from a girl,” Rodney said, waving a dismissive hand at it. 

 

“Girlfriend?”

 

“Not really,” Rodney said, wondering when John had moved so that he was standing right next to him. “She wasn’t my type.” _She wasn’t a guy._

 

It was the biggest cliche in the book but he turned and John was _right there_ , his nose mere inches from Rodney’s. For a moment they both stood, frozen, staring at one another. John moved first, looking down at the floor and coughing awkwardly. 

 

“I should probably go now.”

 

Rodney tried to come up with a logical reason why John should leave and failed to find one. “I have coffee,” he said hopefully. “And food. At least, I think I have food. I may have an MRE or two.”

 

John grinned, “MREs? How do you have MREs?”

 

“Army surplus clearout,” Rodney shrugged. “They’re easier than cooking.”

 

“That’s true,” John admitted and followed Rodney to the kitchen. He slouched against the counter as Rodney tried to think clearly enough to remember where his plates lived. It had been a while since he’d had anyone over for dinner, he usually grabbed the plate which was on the drainer and left it there when he was done eating. Eventually he located them, ignoring the grin on John’s face. 

 

“Not a word,” Rodney warned him. “I don’t cook very often. You should feel honored.”

 

“Oh, I do.” John took a plate and poured the contents of his MRE bag out onto it. “Beef stroganoff, cool.”

 

Rodney didn’t have the luxury of a dining table, so they took their plates to the living room and ate sitting on the threadbare sofa. Rodney sneaked the odd glance at John and missed his mouth with his fork a few times. A gorgeous man was voluntarily sitting in his apartment, they were having dinner, what was next, wine and making out? No, couldn’t be. The only booze he had was beer and if he tried to drink another drop of the stuff he thought he might throw up and that would put a serious downer on the evening.

 

John finished his food and leaned back with a contented sigh. “Haven’t had an MRE dinner for a while.”

 

“You been in the army or something?” Rodney mumbled, his mouth still full.

 

“Air Force,” John replied quietly. “Not any more, obviously.” His eyes were sad all of a sudden and Rodney wondered whether he should change the subject. Sad people were hard to deal with, he never knew what to say and always ended up offending them.

 

“Dessert?”

 

John smiled again. “What have you got?”

 

“I think there’s cake somewhere in the kitchen.”

 

“Hm, I’ll pass,” John rubbed his stomach. “Not much of a cake fan to tell you the truth.”

 

“Heathen.”

 

Chuckling, John ran a hand through his ridiculous hair and said, “So, are you feeling better now? Not likely to pass out or throw up anymore?”

 

“I’m fine,” Rodney said in a dignified tone. “I just don’t drink that much very often. I blame Lorne. And Ronon. It was definitely his fault, he kept buying us all drinks.”

 

“Ronon’s a good guy,” John said softly, but a frown creased his forehead. 

 

“What?” Rodney asked.

 

John was silent for a minute or two, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Rodney bit the inside of his own mouth to prevent himself hauling John close enough to kiss. _Patience, grasshopper._

 

Abruptly, John stood up and grabbed his jacket from the back of the sofa. “I should really go. We’ve got work in the morning and I guess you should get some rest, what with you being hammered and all...”

 

“I am not hammered,” Rodney protested. “Well, not anymore.”

 

Smiling again, John shrugged into his jacket. “Maybe I’m more concerned about my rest than yours.”

 

“What?” Rodney’s brain was still a little too beer-soaked to process things as swiftly as usual. “What are you, Captain Cryptic now? What the hell does that mean?”

 

“Means if I stay much longer I might end up doing something which might make you not so eager to have me work with you tomorrow.”

 

“Oh.” Did John mean what Rodney thought he meant? Was that a glimmer of hope on the distant horizon? Could John, surfer boy, do anything with a smile on his face, professional sloucher, John, possibly be into guys? Was there a God and did he like Rodney after all?

 

John was backing toward the door, an unhappy look on his face.

 

“Wait,” Rodney said, standing up. The floor rose to meet him as his body and brain remembered how much he’d drunk. Just before he crashed nose first into his worn carpet, John’s warm hands caught him and dragged him back to vertical.

 

“Hey, careful, buddy. You’ll ruin the shag pile if you do stuff like that.”

 

Rodney was drunk but he knew how to take advantage of a situation. Wrapping his hands around John’s biceps, he spread his feet wide to steady himself and brushed a dry, hurried kiss across John’s mouth.

 

John jerked backward, his eyes wide with surprise. “What the...McKay, did you just...are you...?”

 

“Yes,” Rodney said firmly. “Are you?”

 

John swallowed a few times, then licked his lips thoughtfully. “Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe?”

 

“Air Force screwed you up, huh?” 

 

A rueful smile slid onto John’s face. “You’re too damn smart to be working in a coffee shop.”

 

“So I’ve been told,” Rodney reluctantly let go of John’s arms and sat back down. “The thing is, and if you tell anyone else this I will have to exact some kind of technological revenge on you, I actually kind of like the place.”

 

“I know what you mean,” John sounded gloomy. “It’s a little addictive.” He slumped back down onto the sofa as well and studied his fingernails intently. “So, is this...I mean are we...um, how does this work exactly?”

 

Rodney couldn’t hide his smile. “Do you need me to draw you a diagram? I probably could but I warn you, art isn’t my forte.”

 

John raised his eyebrows then laughed softly. “No, thanks. I think I remember how _that_ works, even though it’s been a while. I meant how does _this_ work?” He gestured between the two of them. “I’m not very good at people stuff.”

 

“You charm people all day long,” Rodney exclaimed. “Everyone who comes into the shop goes out wishing they had your number written on their napkin. Of course you’re good with people.”

 

“Good with strangers,” John corrected him. “As far as people I like go...I’m a disaster.”

 

Rodney was a little floored. _‘People I like...’_ John liked him? He smiled. 

 

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

 

John didn’t look convinced so Rodney leaned across and kissed him again, a little more forcefully than before. It was something of a risk but John hadn’t punched him the first time and it was worth taking the chance, the guy was a great kisser. Rodney suddenly realized that it’d been far too long since he’d felt the rasp of someone else’s stubble on his own face and mouth. It was good, so damn good, if he didn’t stop soon he’d get carried away. With more of an effort than he’d like to admit, Rodney pulled away and leaned back against the overstuffed sofa.

 

“See? Everything’s fine.”

 

“Cool,” John said. Rodney was a little proud to notice that John’s eyes were slightly unfocused and his voice was more scratchy than normal. “So, this isn’t weird or anything?”

 

“Define ‘weird’.”

 

“I mean at work, if we’re, you know, and we’re at work together, it won’t be...will it?”

 

“Talking about stuff like this kills you, doesn’t it?” Rodney said with a grin.

 

John nodded ruefully and looked back down at his hands, picking at his nails.

 

“Relax.” Rodney thought about slapping John on the back, then decided against it. “It won’t be weird. We’re both adults, right?”

 

John looked at him. 

 

“Okay, so we’re adult in body if not necessarily in mind,” Rodney amended. “I’ve seen you with that skateboard. Seriously, you’re a grown man and you have a _skateboard_.”

 

“It’s fun,” John protested weakly.

 

Rodney rolled his eyes. “So you’re an adult with the mentality of a teenager who can’t talk about anything remotely related to feelings and I’m a narcissistic genius who’s over qualified to work in a coffee shop, with no idea of how to deal with people in ways which won’t offend them. Everything will be fine. Trust me.”

 

John smiled and shook his head. “Okay.”

 

“Good,” Rodney nodded briskly. “Now if we’re done with the talking, could we get back to the making out? I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

 

“Aww, not been getting any recently, McKay?” John’s smile turned naughty. Rodney thought he actually felt his blood pressure go up a notch.

 

“Call me Rodney,” he muttered as he dragged John close and kissed him again.


	4. Chapter 4

John should have believed him, Rodney thought smugly the next day. The atmosphere between them wasn’t weird in the slightest. Granted they’d only gotten as far as making out the night before, drunk though Rodney was, he wasn’t easy enough to sleep with a guy on the first date. Not that he hadn’t wanted to, but the wary look in John’s eyes told him he wasn’t ready to move on past simple kisses yet. 

 

They were both in the coffee shop all day and Rodney couldn’t help but smile every time John’s elbow or hip brushed his. John kept shooting him sideways glances from beneath his lashes, the guy was a natural flirt, whether he intended to be or not. 

 

Around noon, Teyla, Ronon and Lorne stopped by to ask how Rodney’s head was after the previous night’s binge. He was disgusted to see that they all looked clear-eyed and cheerful. He was slowly beginning to feel more human, but waking up that morning had been agony. Luckily his never-fail cure of an Egg McMuffin and a double espresso had worked its usual magic and he felt well enough to stagger to Atlantis.

 

Ronon looked at John and said, “Seeing as you did such a good job taking McKay home, how about you come out with us next time, too? You can be McKay’s babysitter and drag him home when he’s shit-faced.”

 

John smiled the slow smile which made people wonder whether he was mysterious or just a bit dim. “Okay by me.” He drawled even more than normal and shuffled his foot beneath the counter until the tip of his shoe touched Rodney’s ankle.

 

Rodney surpressed the squeak which threatened to make its way out of his throat and said testily, “Yes, when you’ve quite finished discussing me as though I wasn’t even here, some of us have work to do. Go on,” he gestured toward the door, “out.”

 

Ronon and Lorne laughed, Teyla smiled in her enigmatic way and nodded to both him and John.

 

The two men left the shop, but she lingered and said softly, “Sometimes it is the way of things that people discover previously unrealized feelings about one another. If it leads to happiness, it is wonderful. But rushing headlong into the unknown is a dangerous path, and I would not always recommend it. Especially to my friends.” She looked pointedly at Rodney as she said the last four words, making him want to squirm. She didn’t elaborate any further, but turned on her heel and left.

 

“What was _that_ about?” John asked, frowning in confusion.

 

Rodney waved a dismissive hand. “She gets a little carried away with the fortune telling stuff sometimes. I don’t think she knows when to turn it off.” _Or maybe she can’t turn it off. Should I be paying more attention to her?_

 

John made a ‘hmm’ noise, the frown still in place. “Was she telling you not to get involved with me?”

 

“I don’t know,” Rodney said, now ready to change the subject. Whatever Teyla’s misgivings were about John, she was wrong and he wasn’t going to back off from getting involved with him just on her say so. He was a grown man, for God’s sake, he could make his own decisions about his own love life.

 

“Come on,” he said, impulsively grabbing John’s arm and towing him into the back room. “There’s nobody about, ten minute break for all Beanery employees.”

 

“You sure?” John asked, looking over his shoulder at the empty shop. “What if someone comes in?”

 

“We’ll hear that stupid bell,” Rodney said. He kicked the door shut behind them and pushed John up against the wall. John’s hands were already sliding down his back, apparently Rodney wasn’t the only one who’d been thinking about doing this all morning. 

 

“We could get fired,” John mumbled in between kisses.

 

“They wouldn’t dare fire me,” Rodney scoffed and held John’s face steady in order to kiss him more thoroughly. “I’m a genius, or did you forget?”

 

# # #

 

John came into the shop one day with a confused expression on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again.

 

Rodney laughed and finished serving the customer in front of him. “Let me guess, you just spent the morning with Todd.”

 

“He’s...” John began, then stopped. “I don’t know what he is.”

 

“Around here, when the tourists are listening, we call him ‘unique’.” Rodney nodded sagely. “When they’re not around, we call it as we see it. He’s kind of a freak.”

 

“He scared a little girl into hysterical tears and then frightened her mother,” John said. “I had to escort them to the closest hotdog stand for a medicinal ‘dog. Did management hire him to scare people witless?”

 

“He does run the House of Horrors,” Rodney pointed out. “And say what you want about him, but he really fulfills the requirements for that particular attraction.”

 

“I think he scares _me_.” John joined Rodney behind the counter and slipped on his ‘Atlantis Beanery’ apron.

 

“Surely not,” Rodney grinned. “Big bad Air Force man scared of little ol’ Todd? Never.”

 

“Either way, I’m never going into that house,” John mumbled. “He watches his victims on webcams, you know.”

 

“I know, he invited me to have a beer and watch with him one day.”

 

“Did you?”

 

“When he made a grown man cry I called it a day.”

 

“You’re a sick individual.”

 

Rodney chuckled and wrapped an arm around John’s slim waist. “That’s probably why you like me. Takes one to know one.”

 

John’s face darkened a little but he smiled. “You’re annoyingly right about pretty much everything.”

 

“You like me?” Rodney asked brightly. “I’m right about that?”

 

John’s hand crept around Rodney’s back and squeezed the little love handle which was threatening to pop over the top of his pants. “You’re always right. It’s annoying and endearing.”

 

“Sweet,” Rodney grinned before dragging John into the back room for another unscheduled ‘break’.

 

# # #

 

“Does this place look different to you?” 

 

Rodney was walking into the park a week later, John by his side, looking like he just rolled out of bed, which he probably did. John looked around.

 

“Nope. Don’t think so.”

 

“There are more trash cans,” Rodney said, pointing to a new one. “And more benches for people to sit on and I swear that tree wasn’t there yesterday. Do we have guerilla operatives trying to pretty this place up?”

 

“Don’t know,” John shrugged. “Does it matter?”

 

“No,” Rodney said slowly, wondering when the fresh paint had been applied to Lorne’s bumper cars. “It’s just a little...weird. Management normally make a fuss of improvements, like they’re doing the world a huge favor and expect to be thanked profusely for making the effort. Doing it like this doesn’t fit their M.O.”

 

“If it makes the place nicer, do we care how they do it?” John’s face was relaxed and unconcerned as always, but his voice had a tiny bite to it.

 

“No,” Rodney shook his head, too caught up with the improvements to notice John’s tone. “I’m just curious.”

 

 

 

# # #

 

“What the hell?” Rodney re-read the memo, then crunched the paper into a tight ball. “Does management have CCTV cameras in here?” He glared around the walls of the coffee shop. “If they do I’ll find ‘em and they’ll get the mother of all viruses uploaded to their server.”

 

“What’s up?” John stood close behind him, close enough for Rodney to feel the warmth from him radiating toward his own body.

 

He breathed harshly through his nose and said, waving the fist which contained the crumpled paper, “Memo from the gods.” He smoothed it out and read, “‘Atlantis Beanery employees are to take breaks individually. A half-hour for lunch is to be taken between noon and two in the afternoon. All breaks must be taken off the shop premises. Any extra breaks taken will be deducted from employees’ pay.’” He screwed up his face, “What?! They must have spies, that’s it, they’re spying on us. Somebody posing as a customer, ratting on us to Elizabeth.”

 

John screwed up his face and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe.”

 

“Maybe?” Rodney cried. “That’s the best you can come up with? Our privacy is being invaded and all you can say is ‘maybe’?”

 

“Well, technically I guess we are on the park’s dime here,” John said slowly. “Perhaps some busy-body customer saw us taking, uh, joint breaks and complained to the management. Elizabeth would have to be seen to do something, you know, the customer is always right, that kind of thing. It is pretty relaxed around here, this really isn’t so bad.”

 

Rodney glared at the memo and flared his nostrils, unwilling to admit that John might have a point.

 

“Come on,” John smiled the special smile which always made Rodney forget things like his own name and date of birth. “Don’t worry about it.” His hand crept round to rest on Rodney’s hip, then slid a few inches lower to brush across his ass. 

 

“Fine,” Rodney huffed, a smile curling the corner of his mouth upward. “But it’s still a gross invasion of privacy.”

 

“So write to your congressman.” John’s breath tickled his ear, making him shiver.

 

“Can’t. Canadian, remember?” 

 

“Semantics, you know what I mean.”

 

Rodney blew out a great gust of air and nodded. “I guess. As unpleasant as it is to be reminded that we have people who we’re laughingly supposed to call management, maybe individual breaks aren’t so bad in the grand scheme of things.”

 

“Oh?” John’s voice was right back next to his ear again, distractingly close. “Why’s that? Getting bored of me already?”

 

“Yes, because I have a whole line of gorgeous guys just waiting for me to give ‘em a chance to go out with me.” Rodney smiled ruefully. “The joint breaks were playing hell with my hypoglycemia. What with all the, you know, making out and stuff, I was forgetting to eat.”

 

“Noted,” John said seriously. “I’ll cram a muffin down your throat if you look like you’re about to pass out.” 

 

“Thank you, I think.”


	5. Chapter 5

Another month passed. Lorne’s beloved bumper cars were re-painted again and re-modeled to look like miniature spaceships. His face when he saw what had been done to his babies, (without his permission, as he told anyone who would listen) was the picture of betrayed dismay.

 

“Look at them!” he cried, waving furiously at the little cars. “Look what they did to my boys!”

 

“Calm down, Lorne.” Rodney said, “They’re only bumper cars. You make it sound as though someone tattooed ‘I love Bieber’ on your balls while you were asleep.”

 

Lorne went slightly white at this point and Ronon had to wade in to prevent him from strangling Rodney.

 

“My cars!” Lorne yelled as Ronon dragged him away to the closest ice-cream stand for a pick-me-up mint chocolate chip. “They desecrated my cars, the bastards!”

 

“Why spaceships?” Rodney said to John when Lorne’s woeful shouts had faded into the distance.

 

John shrugged and ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up even more than usual. “Don’t know. Looks kinda cool though, don’t you think? The kids are gonna love it.”

 

“Let me guess.” Rodney rolled his eyes. “You always wanted to go into space, right? That’s why you look like an excited ten year old right now.”

 

John laughed and threw his arm over Rodney’s shoulders. “When I’m excited, you’ll know about it.”

 

 

 

# # #

 

Rodney was quietly amazed that he and John seemed to have something resembling a relationship going. He wasn’t quiet about anything, but he couldn’t really believe that he hadn’t screwed anything up so far. His past history regarding being someone’s boyfriend wasn’t great.

 

His longest relationship (Rodney thought) had been back in high school with Mindy Chan, she’d been in his math class. Math turned him on, it was a fact. Why more people didn’t get excited by brains, he didn’t quite understand. Mindy had been awesome, until she’d taken him home to meet her parents and well, Rodney tried very hard not to think of that evening, it still made him wince. Mindy dumped him the day after, loudly and in the middle of the cafeteria. They’d lasted all of three weeks.

 

So far, John seemed completely unperturbed by Rodney’s rants about how damaged customers must be if they wanted flavored syrups in their perfectly good, coffee flavored coffee. He smiled and chuckled and rolled his eyes and pinched Rodney’s ass when he least expected it, often stopping him mid-sentence. 

 

Rodney wasn’t about to rock the boat which was providing him with regular make out sessions and, now, some truly mind-blowing sex. But being him, he couldn’t help asking one night as John was apparently trying to part him from his brains by way of sucking them out through his dick, “So, why are you doing this exactly?”

 

“I’d have thought that was obvious,” John drawled, releasing Rodney’s cock with an obscene slurp. He smiled and Rodney swallowed hard to stop himself coming right then, that’d be embarrassing.

 

“No,” Rodney said, clutching at his rapidly disappearing self-control. “Not this, um, _this.”_ He waved his hands vaguely. “Us, here. I...um...”

 

“You think you’re impossible to like,” John said calmly, resting his chin on Rodney’s hip and blowing gently on his cock.

 

“Do I?” Rodney blurted, wishing he’d just kept his mouth shut until John had finished his work.

 

“Yep,” John nodded. “For a guy with an ego the size of yours, you’ve got no self confidence. You think you’re unbearable.”

 

Rodney wasn’t really sure how to respond to that, so simply nodded and made a ‘hmm’ noise.

 

John laughed, his stubble rubbing on some very sensitive skin, Rodney moaned a little. 

 

“ _I_ like you. Even if you don’t.”

 

Looking sharply down at John, Rodney saw that he was completely serious. “Wow. That’s like, the biggest thing anyone’s ever said...are you sure?”

 

“Shut up, Rodney,” John grinned. “I’m working here.” He bent his head to his task and soon Rodney was seeing stars and forgot all about pesky things like feelings and relationships.

 

# # #

 

It was rare to see Teyla in anything other than her usual calm, serene, ‘floating slightly above the rest of the tawdry world’, state. Today however, she had a hard glint in her eye which made Rodney make her a chamomile tea before she’d even opened her mouth. She never touched caffeinated drinks, something which still confused the hell out of Rodney.

 

She stood at the Beanery counter and breathed for a few minutes, ignoring the customers who stared at her in bemusement.

 

“Teyla?” Rodney ventured, hoping she didn’t have her Escrima sticks with her. “You okay?”

 

“I am fine now, thank you, Rodney,” she replied in her soft voice. Rodney breathed a mental sigh of relief, maybe he wasn’t in trouble after all.

 

“I received this memo this morning,” Teyla said, pushing a piece of paper across the counter. “I found it...vexing.”

 

Rodney quickly scanned it and raised his eyebrows. “They want you to go through customers more quickly?”

 

“Rodney, I believe it would be better if we discussed this in more moderate voices, don’t you?” Teyla said, cutting her eyes to the people sitting at the tables.

 

“What? Oh, yes. Don’t want to put them off coming to see you.” Rodney read the memo again. “So management want you to see more people per hour, giving nobody more than ten minutes. Huh, I don’t even believe in all that fortune telling crap, but ten minutes seems kind of short for giving someone all the details they probably want.”

 

Shaking her head slightly at his bluntness, Teyla said heavily, “It will not be easy. Some people require more attention than others. Some have important messages which they need to hear. It is not a production line, I cannot speed up purely in the interests of making more money. That would be...wrong.”

 

Rodney had to smile, for all her strange earnestness and antiquated speech patterns, Teyla was a good person at heart. She believed whole-heartedly in what she apparently saw in peoples’ palms, asking her to be more of a ‘wham-bam, thank you ma’am’ businesswoman was like asking Batman to be cute and cuddly. It just wasn’t going to happen.

 

“Can you talk to Elizabeth?”

 

“I have already spoken with her. She says she is merely passing on instructions which she receives from the owners.”

 

“This sucks.”

 

“I have to agree, Rodney.”

 

“You think there’s some kind of corporate spying going on here?” Rodney frowned at the woman who was waiting behind Teyla. There were occasionally more important things in the world than coffee. “Maybe there’s somebody in the park who’s passing on information about what we’re doing. I wouldn’t put it past the management to have spies everywhere.”

 

“I believe this lady is waiting to be served,” Teyla said, smiling graciously at the impatient customer. “I apologize for your wait. I will see you later, Rodney.”

 

“Hmm,” Rodney nodded in farewell, his hands already flying to get the woman’s order ready. When she finally left the shop, clutching her coffee and shooting nasty glances at him, he leaned against the cake cabinet and mused. Who could be passing on details about what the park staff were up to? Surely no-one he knew would be low enough to rat on their friends.

 

The shop began to get busy with the lunchtime rush and he had no more time to devote to the issue.

 

 

 

# # #

 

“You know, I just realized something.” Rodney stuck his head out from behind the shower curtain and blinked owlishly at John. He was sitting, naked, on the lowered toilet lid, reading a newspaper.

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t know your last name.”

 

“Maybe I don’t have one.”

 

“Don’t be flippant, you’re too old for it to be charming.”

 

“Thanks. Maybe I’m John Doe.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well, who are you, then?”

 

John mumbled something indistinct. 

 

“What?” Rodney said impatiently.

 

Rubbing at the back of his neck, John said more loudly, “Sheppard. My name’s Sheppard. Happy?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Wait, you only just thought about the fact you had no idea who I was? We’ve been sleeping together for weeks.”

 

Rodney rolled his eyes and waved his loofah. “I forgot. You’re, well, distracting. What with the hair and the drawl and the ‘take me home, I’ll make it worth your while’ eyes, I kind of forgot to ask.”

 

“Did I?”

 

“Did you what?”

 

“Make it worth your while.”

 

Rodney grinned before vanishing back behind the shower curtain again. “Hell, yes.” 

 

If he’d stuck around a little longer, he might have seen the odd expression which crossed John’s face. Relief, worry and slight resignation. But Rodney didn’t see, he was too busy stealing the volumizing shampoo and conditioner John had sneaked into his shower.

 

# # #

 

Todd pushed the coffee shop door open and dejectedly wandered in. Todd had never set foot in the shop before, so Rodney thought he could be forgiven for openly staring in amazement. A small girl whose parents were enjoying their macchiatos with indecent levels of ecstasy, shrieked and buried her face in her mother’s shoulder as he passed their table. Obviously recent visitors the house of horrors.

 

The long leather duster Todd wore dragged the floor and his usual straight-backed stance had been replaced by a slouch John would have been proud of. His bleached-white hair seemed more lank than ever and hung limply around his pale face. Misery didn’t even begin to describe his expression and Rodney found himself making a double espresso before he even knew his hands were moving. 

 

“Here,” he pushed the cup toward Todd, who looked at it blankly. “Coffee,” Rodney said, wondering whether he should mime drinking, maybe Todd was having some kind of breakdown, sign language might work better than words. 

 

Todd didn’t move or speak, but his eyes flickered from Rodney’s face back down to the cup on the counter. 

 

“Coffee,” Rodney said again. “You look like death. It might help.” Privately, he always thought Todd looked like death, but that was the image the guy seemed to enjoy projecting.

 

Nodding slowly, Todd lifted the cup in both hands and sipped warily. Rodney swore he saw some color rush into the bloodless cheeks and Todd’s lips turned slightly pink beneath their usual layer of white lipstick.

 

“Better?”

 

Another nod from Todd.

 

“Okay.” Rodney flexed his fingers, wondering how to phrase his next question delicately. Oh, to hell with it. “Could you kind of go now? I think you’re scaring my customers and I don’t imagine the park wants to be sued by angry parents whose kids now require therapy in order to sleep.” He jerked his chin at the now wailing girl in the corner.

 

“Oh.” Todd’s deep voice was flat and toneless. “Sorry.” He turned to leave but tripped on the hem of his duster and stumbled a few steps.

 

Against his better judgment, because really, Todd wasn’t someone who engendered close friendships or interaction of any kind, Rodney said, “Are you okay?”

 

Slowly, Todd shook his head.

 

“Well, what’s up?”

 

“They fired me.”

 

“What?” Rodney’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. “What do you mean, they fired you? Who fired you?”

 

“I received a memo. Apparently the owners of Atlantis no longer require my services.”

 

“But, that’s crazy,” Rodney said. “They can’t just fire you without giving you a reason.”

 

“They think my House is too frightening.” Todd’s oddly pale eyes locked with Rodney’s. “They employed me to make it scary and now fire me for being too good at my job.”

 

Rodney bit his lip. He’d been into the House of Horrors precisely once, and suffered nightmares for a week afterwards. As sucky as it was to be fired by memo, he could kind of see where the owners were coming from. But, perhaps solidarity was called for at times like these, the bald truth might be a little too painful for Todd to bear. Plus Rodney wasn’t sure whether Todd was a violent man or not and didn’t want to take the chance of offending him further.

 

“That sucks,” he said firmly. “That’s not a decent reason. That’s like firing me for making the best white chocolate mocha in the state. Which I do, by the way.”

 

“Don’t take anything for granted,” Todd said miserably. “The ways things are going around here, we’ll all be out on the street before too long. I hear Stackhouse and Markham also received similar memos today. Apparently their popcorn booth wasn’t turning enough profit.”

 

“No way!” Rodney cried, aghast. “Those guys made the best popcorn I’ve ever tasted.”

 

Todd shrugged fatalistically. “They made it but couldn’t sell it. They were terrible salesmen, I heard them.” He glanced at the clock on the wall above Rodney’s head. “I should collect my things. I understand I need to be off Atlantis premises by the close of business today.”

 

Rodney watched the tall man shuffle out, his shoulders stooped and defeat written all over him. “What the hell is going on around here?” he muttered.


	6. Chapter 6

As demoralizing as it was to watch people he’d known and worked with leave the park for good, Rodney still had a hard feeling properly miserable about it. John was...well John was awesome, there were no two ways about it. He was funny, he was sarcastic, he could cook, he was absolutely gorgeous and somehow managed to keep up with Rodney when he went off onto one of his science-themed rants. 

 

Math seemed to come as easily to John as breathing did to most other people. More than once Rodney found himself with slightly embarrassing hard-ons when John mentioned things like power series convergence and binomial coefficients.

 

Most evenings, they’d go back to Rodney’s apartment together. John never actually asked whether Rodney wanted him to, but the understanding that Rodney would never say no was quite clear between them. John didn’t mention going to his place and Rodney didn’t ask why. He’d found that people generally kept secrets for a reason and he didn’t want to pick at that particular scab.

 

John would stand in Rodney’s tiny kitchen, creating something surprisingly edible for dinner while Rodney pored over another copy of The Astrophysical Journal, red pen in hand, ready to eviscerate the unfortunate contributors to that issue.

 

“We’re okay, aren’t we?” John asked one night, not too long after Todd had left Atlantis.

 

“Huh?” Rodney didn’t shift his gaze from the journal. “Oh. Yeah, we’re good.” John’s concerned tone penetrated the fog of equations which filled his brain and he looked up, abruptly worried. “We are, aren’t we?”

 

John rubbed his eyes. His hair was too long and threatened to flop down over his forehead. He looked suddenly younger and a little insecure. Rodney put the magazine down and focused his attention on his lover.

 

“What’s up?”

 

There was silence for a moment. John licked his lips, then pressed them together into a thin line. He only did that when he was thinking very hard and alarm bells began to ring in Rodney’s head.

 

“John, what’s up?” he said again.

 

“Nothing,” John shook his head and turned back to the pasta sauce bubbling on the stove. A minute later he was back in the kitchen doorway again. “I was married. Before. Her name was Nancy. She was nice. Divorced me though. I was an asshole. Thought you ought to know.”

 

Rodney blinked a few times before his brain caught up with the rest of him. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Um, not that I don’t value the information but, why are you telling me this?”

 

John shrugged, one of his trademark ‘avoid talking about it’ tactics. “Figured you might like to know something about me.”

 

The alarm bells continued clanging in Rodney’s head. “Hold on, are you building up to something big here? Are you breaking up with me? You’re going back to her, aren’t you? Shit, John, I just upgraded to the sports channels for you, how can you do this to me? Bastard, I hope your balls shrivel and drop off.” He stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door.

 

“Rodney!” John’s exasperated voice easily penetrated the thin walls. “I’m not breaking up with you, you pain in the ass. I just figured I’d try, you know, talking about myself a little. Thought you might like it. You don’t actually know that much about me. For all you know, I could be anyone. Axe murderer, KGB agent, a barista-stalking psycho, a Lakers fan...”

 

“You’ll watch hockey with me, feed me, listen to me rant about science and correct my math,” Rodney said loudly. “You’re gorgeous and I think about doing filthy things to you all the damn time.” He wrenched the door open and glared at John. “That’s about all I need to know. If you’re an axe murderer, all I can say is your axe is well hidden because I’ve seen you naked.”

 

John’s mouth smiled but his eyes were serious. “What if I turned out to be someone different?”

 

“Unless you turn into a woman, I don’t think I’d care much.” Rodney dragged him into a hard kiss. “Shut up and come to bed, Airman Sheppard.”

 

“Major,” John mumbled into Rodney’s open mouth. “I made Major.”

 

“Absurdly hot,” Rodney all but snarled, already pulling John’s clothes off. “I’m sleeping with an officer.” Okay, so he was a little obsessed with the whole access to amazing sex whenever he wanted it thing, but who could blame him? Fourteen minutes later, he could barely remember his own name, much less what they’d been talking about.

 

# # #

 

The bell over the shop door tinkled and Teyla walked in. Well, ‘walked’ was the common verb for what she did, ‘staggered’ was probably closer to the truth.

 

“Rodney,” she said, her chin defiantly high in the air. “I require coffee. Now.”

 

Rodney gaped and felt John turn beside him to stare at Teyla. “But...but, you don’t drink coffee,” he managed to stutter. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never once even sipped a cup.”

 

Teyla’s hands shot out, fisted Rodney’s shirt and pulled him halfway over the counter. Rodney squeaked and flailed before John’s hand fastened onto his waistband, keeping him safely behind the counter and relatively safe from Teyla’s ire.

 

“Rodney, I have had a very trying day.” Teyla’s voice shook from the effort of sounding calm. “If you served alcohol here I would be requesting that. As you do not, coffee will have to do. Espresso, please. At once.”

 

She released him and he scrambled to make the coffee, with John breathing down his neck.

 

“She’s scary,” John whispered. “She ever get like this before?”

 

Rodney shook his head, Teyla’s wild eyes had frightened him mute. She took the little cup and sipped carefully at the dark brew within. Her nose wrinkled but she gamely finished the drink, then set the cup back on the counter with a sigh.

 

“Thank you, Rodney. I am much better now. I apologize for man-handling you.”

 

“Desperate times, desperate measures,” Rodney said, gesturing vaguely while John nodded behind him. “What’s up?”

 

Teyla’s slim shoulders slumped a little. “I feel...drained. I understand that the owners wish to have me see more customers, but, I fear I am not very good at being brief. There are things I wish to communicate, things I _need_ to say to the people who visit me. Messages, warnings, things I see written in their palms which need to be talked about. I fear I am passing many of them over in my new-found haste.”

 

Rodney glanced at John, who shook his head helplessly, a stricken expression on his face. He had no more idea of how to soothe Teyla than Rodney did. Somehow that was disquieting, Rodney suddenly realized just how much he’d taken for granted and in some ways, relied upon, John’s ability to remain unruffled.

 

“You really believe in that fortune telling stuff, don’t you?” It wasn’t what he’d intended to say but his mouth had superseded his brain on many previous occasions, so Rodney just ran with it.

 

“Yes, I do.” A hint of a smile tugged at Teyla’s mouth. “But you do not.”

 

“Science and that hocus pocus stuff don’t really mix,” Rodney said, screwing up his face.

 

“Most science, I think you will find, dear Rodney, was at one time or other considered to be ‘hocus pocus stuff’.” Teyla’s eyes crinkled as her smile grew. She really was very beautiful, how had Rodney never seen that before? Her clear gaze switched to John and her brows lowered a fraction. “I do not claim to see the future, as I have told you before, I merely sense things. I sense many things about you, John Sheppard. First and foremost, you are not comfortable in your own skin. Decide who you are before you lose what you value most.”

 

Rodney looked at John. His jaw was tight and his lips were pressed into that thin line again. Oh boy. 

 

“Okay, I think that’s enough prophesying of doom for one day,” Rodney said. “It’s almost closing time, are you all right to get home, Teyla?”

 

She inclined her head gracefully. “Yes, thank you, Rodney. I am fine now.” She swept out of the shop after shooting one last piercing glance at John.

 

With her gone, the silence in the room was suddenly far too heavy.

 

“Wow,” Rodney forced a laugh. “That was...interesting. A Teyla freakout, never thought I’d see the day.”

 

John didn’t reply. He was staring at the door as though he was trying to bore holes in it with the power of his mind.

 

“John?”

 

“There’s food in your refrigerator,” John said tersely. “I won’t come to your place tonight. Stuff to do.”

 

“Okay,” Rodney drew the word out, playing for thinking time. “Look, don’t pay any attention to Teyla, she didn’t mean any of that crap.”

 

“You don’t need me to help close up, do you?” John was pulling his Beanery apron off as he spoke and didn’t give Rodney chance to reply. “Okay, good. See you tomorrow.” 

 

After a whirlwind kiss, he was gone, practically sprinting out of the door. Rodney stared after him, his mouth hanging open. What the hell?

 

# # #

 

Rodney didn’t sleep well that night. He moodily got up at one in the morning and mooched through his kitchen cupboards, looking for something to eat. He’d already eaten the casserole John had left in the fridge, but it hadn’t taken away the leaden feeling in his stomach. Maybe if he filled himself with peanut butter, he’d drown that feeling out. Yeah, that was a plan.

 

Halfway through the peanut butter jar he gave up and leaned his head back on the sofa, now he just felt sick, and the ball of worry was still there. Exactly why he was worried, Rodney wasn’t entirely sure. It was just a reaction to Teyla being all weird and recent events at the park, he tried to tell himself. Nothing to get concerned about.

 

Back in bed, he resolutely closed his eyes and tried to summon sleep. It refused to come and he found himself staring at the ceiling at three o’clock. Thumping his pillow into a different shape didn’t help him rest but it did send faint wafts of John’s aftershave toward his nose. He smiled a little, what was the point of kidding himself? He couldn’t sleep because he was worried about John. What was he doing? Why the sudden rush out of the Beanery earlier? Was he in some kind of trouble? Maybe he moonlighted for the mob. Or perhaps he was a cat burglar, that’d work, he was slim enough to creep through peoples’ windows. What if he got arrested? Oh god, Rodney would have to visit him in jail, conjugal visits, scary prison staff, the other inmates...he shuddered. 

 

After a few minutes of deep breathing to stave off the impending panic attack, he smiled again. Maybe he couldn’t sleep because he just missed having John around. He’d probably gotten used to having someone else in the apartment and now he was feeling the loss of being alone. Well, alone but for Newton, but a cat’s company didn’t quite compare to John’s. Being lonesome was far more likely than John being a mob bagman or world famous cat burglar. Although both scenarios might be possible fantasy jerk-off material...

 

He lay and stared into the dark, his hands laced behind his head. Thinking about John somehow calmed him down slightly, the tight knot in his stomach loosened a bit. Despite his worry, Rodney found himself smiling as he remembered the conversations and banter they’d had in that very bed. And the sex, of course, he also remembered the sex. Maybe that was what helped him drift off into dreams, the last time he looked at the clock it said half past four, when he blinked again, it was almost eight.

 

“Shit!” he yelped, throwing himself out of bed. “Late, late, so very, very late...”

 

He stuffed himself into his uniform and ran out of the apartment after grabbing a handful of Cap’n Crunch to eat on the way to Atlantis. A headache was already beginning to pound behind his left eye, it was going to one of those days, he could feel it.

 

# # #

 

John was already at the shop when Rodney skidded through the door. 

 

“God, you look awful.” Rodney couldn’t help it, it just popped out. And it was true, John looked like he hadn’t slept, there were dark circles beneath his eyes and a frown etched onto his forehead. Even his hair seemed limp. “You all right? What happened last night? Do you work for the mob? Do I need to worry about cement overcoats and that kind of thing?”

 

“Huh?” John squinted at him in that way he did when he suspected Rodney was off his meds. 

 

“Never mind,” Rodney waved impatiently and grabbed his apron. “You look like crap, did you sleep at all?”

 

“What? Oh. Um, no.”

 

Rodney narrowed his own eyes. “What were you doing? You ran out of here yesterday like your ass was on fire.”

 

“Just some personal stuff,” John muttered, straightening cups and generally appearing to be busy while doing very little.

 

It shouldn’t have hurt that John had ‘personal stuff’ which he didn’t want to share with Rodney but for some inexplicable reason, it kind of did. Rodney nodded slowly and bustled around getting the shop ready for business. If John had things he didn’t want to share, that was fine, it was, really. A thought struck him and he turned, apparently surprising John who was dozing against the wall. 

 

“Is this some kind of knee jerk reaction to that boloney Teyla spouted yesterday? Did you feel the need to go off and make yourself comfortable in your own skin or something?”

 

“Leave it, Rodney,” John muttered, rubbing his eyes wearily.

 

“I don’t think I want to leave it,” Rodney said mildly. “I think I want to know what you did last night.”

 

“Rodney...” John’s drawl had a warning in it but Rodney was feeling reckless, maybe lack of a decent breakfast made him more stupid.

 

“You cheating on me?”

 

“No!” John’s hand slammed down onto the counter with a crack which made them both jump. He blew out a breath, obviously struggling with his temper, then said more calmly, “No, I’m not. I was doing some business stuff last night. I’m not telling you what it was because it won’t do any good for you to know. So stop asking, okay? Please?”

 

There was a full beat of silence as they stared at one another. John looked away first, something unreadable in his eyes. Rodney bit at his lip but nodded briefly. 

 

“Okay.”

 

“Thanks.” John sent a wan smile toward him. 

 

“I slept like crap,” Rodney said briskly. “Your fault. You should go get me a breakfast hotdog as an apology.”

 

John laughed quietly and rolled his eyes. “Fine. I need something to eat anyway, I’m dying here.” 

The door swung shut behind him and Rodney was alone in the shop. The headache still persisted behind his eye and something told him the day’s crappiness hadn’t finished yet.

 

# # #

 

When Ronon pushed the shop door open that afternoon, Rodney had a feeling that shit was about to hit the proverbial fan. Ronon never came to the Beanery. He and John were friends, as far as Rodney knew, but Ronon thought coffee was for wimps and took John to bars and other such manly places.

 

Teyla and Lorne followed Ronon and Rodney’s heart sank still further. What was going on now? Then Elizabeth and the funny little foreign guy walked in as well. Rodney’s eyebrows shot up, why were they there? Were the owners going in for mass firing now? Were they all about to get their marching orders?

 

Two men Rodney didn’t know entered the shop, one pushed the door shut and turned the sign around so that it read ‘closed’. There were no customers anyway, it was a weekday and pretty slow business-wise. 

 

“What’s going on?” he hissed, primarily at Elizabeth but happy to listen to anyone with an answer.

 

Elizabeth shook her head and shrugged. Shit. If she didn’t know what was going on, it couldn’t be anything good.

 

One of the men Rodney didn’t know, spoke in a gravelly voice. “Where’s John?” His hair was white but he held himself like a soldier, back ramrod straight. He was obviously used to having his orders followed to the letter. 

 

Rodney turned and called into the back room, “John? Um, you’re wanted. You got a minute?”

 

“I’m knee deep in muffins in here, Rodney,” John called back. “What’s up?”

 

“John?” the older man called, an unpleasant edge to his voice. “Come on out and see what a surprise I’ve got for you.”

 

The atmosphere instantly thickened to a consistency which could have been cut with a teaspoon. John appeared in the doorway behind Rodney, his face set and hard. The panic in his eyes was just a figment of Rodney’s imagination, wasn’t it? John didn’t panic, not even when confronted by strange older men who apparently knew him and had ‘surprises’ for him.

 

“What are you doing here?” John asked, his voice low and unfriendly.

 

“What, no greeting for your old man?” the white-haired guy smirked. Something about that smirk was familiar...Rodney felt his own mouth drop open.

 

“Are you...John, is he...?”

 

“I’m John’s father,” the older man said, extending his hand to Rodney. “Patrick Sheppard.” 

 

Rodney found himself shaking hands automatically.

 

Patrick smiled, all teeth and no warmth. “I understand you’re the young man my son is sleeping with.”

 

Rodney heard John hiss behind him. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Meeting the parents wasn’t meant to be like this, in front of his friends and colleagues, it was supposed to be in a house, over dinner, wasn’t it? 

 

“Um...” he began, and was profoundly grateful when John interrupted him.

 

“Dad, stop it. I said everything I have to say, last night. I’m not dancing to your tune anymore.”

 

“And yet you’re still here. Just can’t tear yourself away from lover boy, huh?” Patrick’s smile widened as he glanced at Rodney. He went on, “I thought I made it very clear what you could expect me to do if you didn’t change your mind and get off your damned high horse.”

 

Rodney glanced at John. He still looked bad, the circles under his eyes seemed to be darkening and his beard was well beyond mere five o’clock shadow. His eyes flickered from Patrick to the other, younger man with him. 

 

“Dave, come on, help me out here.”

 

The other man, Dave, whoever he was, pressed his lips together in a way so reminiscent of John Rodney felt sure they had to be brothers. “Sorry, John. You had a job to do. Not our fault you decided you don’t have the stomach for it anymore.” Dave looked down at his shoes as he spoke, obviously not enjoying the moment.

 

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said in her best ‘I’m a calm and understanding woman, tell me what the hell’s going on right now’ voice. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” She locked eyes with Patrick Sheppard and held out her hand. “Elizabeth Weir, I’m head of Recruitment and Personnel. Are you the people who sent me the message about hiring John?”

 

“We are indeed,” Patrick said smoothly, holding onto Elizabeth’s hand for a shade too long. “You carried out your instructions with considerable aplomb, Ms Weir, I’d be glad to show you how grateful I am.”

 

Rodney felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle slightly. Smooth and oily, how could John be related to that bastard?

 

“Dad!” John said sharply. “They don’t need to be here, if you want to talk to me, fine, I’ll come up to your office.”

 

“Oh, Johnny-boy, they do need to be here,” Patrick smiled, his thumb running over Elizabeth’s knuckles. “ You’re not very clever sometimes, you know that? You never think I’ll go through with things, why is that? Maybe the brains from my side of the family didn’t filter down to you.” He smacked a kiss to Elizabeth’s hand and released her. Holding up both hands for silence, he said loudly, “In case any of you don’t know me, I’m your boss. Patrick Sheppard, at your service.” He actually look a bow. 

 

Rodney snorted in derisive amusement, the guy was either nuts or a little too dramatic for his own good. He glanced at John, who wasn’t smiling. His fists were clenched at his sides and his jaw was working convulsively. Rodney touched his arm, suddenly concerned. 

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

 

John shook his head minutely, a curious look of defeat in his eyes.

 

“What’s wrong, dear boy,” Patrick boomed, “is that Johnny here is a liar. He’s been lying to you, to all of you, since he day he appeared.”

 

The silence which followed this statement was total until Ronon grunted, “What?”

 

“Tell ‘em, John,” Patrick said, rocking back on his heels in satisfaction. “Tell ‘em how you played them all and lied and talked about ‘em behind their backs.”

 

“Do it yourself,” John spat. “I’m sick of this.”

 

“So you said last night,” Patrick grinned. “I don’t care. You’re still nothing more than a grunt, really, are you? You’re better when you’ve got orders to follow, you don’t have to think too much. Thinking makes Johnny a dull boy.”

 

“Hey!” Rodney said sharply, “Hold on, that’s not true. That’s out of line, mister, I don’t care who you are.”

 

“Ah, jumping to your lover’s defense, eh? Good for you, kid.”

 

“I am not a kid,” Rodney ground out, “and yes, I am jumping to defend him from a git like you.”

 

“It’s okay, Rodney,” John’s hand on his arm stopped Rodney saying anything more. “Look, Dad, I don’t know what you hope to get out of all this, but give up and go away. Please?”

 

“Oh no,” Patrick did more heel-rocking, grinning madly. “This is far too much fun to stop now. Go on, John, tell all these nice people what you’ve been doing to them behind their backs.”

 

John said nothing, but glared at his father as though he was wishing him into another galaxy.

 

“No?” Patrick said, “You don’t have the balls to admit what you’ve been up to? Okay, sonny, I’ll do it for you.” He winked at Rodney and continued, “You know how things have been changing around here, rides being refurbished, the park being spruced up, people being told to move their asses and actually do their jobs,” he cast a quick glance at Teyla, “well, you can thank John for that.”

 

“What?” Rodney yelped. “What the...John, what’s he talking about?”

 

“He’s been telling me everything you and your little friends have been up to,” Patrick said kindly, as though to a child. “He’s a good spy, don’t you think? You’re all distracted by the pretty face, you don’t stop to think he could be an asshole behind the nice facade.”

 

Rodney shot Patrick a disgusted glare and turned back to John. “This is all bullshit, right? He’s just making this stuff up.”

 

John didn’t meet his eyes and sighed wearily. “Sorry, Rodney.”

 

Rodney blinked and tried to corral his scattered thoughts. “Hang on, you mean...is he telling the truth? Are you...have you been...no, you couldn’t have...you wouldn’t...”

 

“Oh, he would,” Patrick put in helpfully. “And he did.”

 

“You informed your father of our actions, John?” Teyla said slowly. “You informed him that I, for one, was not working quickly enough? You recommended that I be requested to see more people? You knew I would not like that, John.”

 

“Which is why I didn’t say it!” John burst out. He pointed at his father, who was still smiling. “He’s been twisting everything I’ve said. I said you did a good job, saw people and made them feel like they were special, you didn’t rush ‘em through like some kind of production line. I said it was good, and he twisted the fuck out of it. He’s just trying to get some kind of revenge on me for not being the perfect son.”

 

“Lies again, John.” Patrick said. “Everything we implemented was on your recommendation.”

 

“You told them to remodel my cars?” Lorne said in a strangled voice. “They were fine as they were, they didn’t need to be messed about with.”

 

“I said they were good,” John said, sounding a little desperate now. “I said they could stand a lick of paint, that was all. He’s the one who went to town on ‘em.” He pointed at his father again and Rodney saw that his hand was shaking slightly. 

 

Rodney felt like the world was in slow motion freefall. “So, all this time, all the time you’ve been with us, you’ve been watching us, _assessing_ us? Playing the good little spy so you can run back to daddy with news of all the naughty things we get up to? Oh my God, you told him about our breaks, didn’t you? That’s why I got the memo about taking lunch and breaks off the premises and individually. Jesus, John, you told your freakin’ father about...you know.”

 

“Blowjobs in the store room?” Patrick said with indecent relish. “Not in so many words, but I know my boy, he’s transparent at times. Especially when he’s in lust.”

 

“Dad,” David murmured, “I don’t think that’s appropriate...”

 

“I don’t pay you to think,” Patrick snapped. “Shut up.”

 

“Dave,” John said, “come on, you don’t have to put up with this. He’s screwing with both of us, it’s not fair.”

 

“Not fair, but I have the most money, so that _makes_ it fair.” Patrick said harshly. He switched his attention back to Rodney, who was still trying to get past the idea that John had told people about their joint breaks. “Now, are you still so keen to sleep with John, considering he’s a dirty rotten liar?”

 

“That’s enough,” John said, now sounding downright dangerous. “You’re not going to do this, Dad, not now and definitely not here.”

 

“You’re right,” Patrick inspected his nails carelessly. “I think I’ve said all I came to say. If you change your mind about working for me, Johnny, just say the word. There’ll always be a place for you at Atlantis.”

 

“Forget it,” John replied. “I’m not playing spy for you anymore. All I’ve done is hurt some good people, and for what? It’s all for the greater glory of you. I’m sick of it, I’m sick of you. I don’t want anything to do with you ever again.”

 

Rodney knew he should feel some kind of sorrow at John’s words, he was after all, practically divorcing his family right in front of them all. But the cold fury which bubbled up as he thought of the sheer humiliation of being taken in by an easy smile and a disarming attitude, won out over empathy. How could John have done that? Since the very beginning, practically every word he’d said had been a lie. He’d deceived them, they’d all fallen for his act, well, all of them but Teyla. She’d known something was wrong, but none of them had wanted to take her seriously, believing the best of someone as cheerful as John was easy. Having those illusions shattered was all the more painful. Even worse, had the whole relationship between himself and John been nothing but a sham? Was it something Patrick engineered? Sleeping with an employee would certainly get John the inside gossip. Rodney clapped a hand to his mouth, he felt sick.

 

While Rodney’s world slowly disintegrated around him, the conversation continued.

 

“Have it your way,” Patrick said to John, shrugging nonchalantly. “But we all know when you’re hungry and cold and out of friends you’ll come crawling back home, you always do.”

 

“How can you speak to your own son in such a way?” Teyla demanded, her eyes flashing angrily.

 

“Because he _is_ my son,” Patrick said gently. “And I’ll deal with my sons any way I see fit. Now, little girl, butt out. This isn’t a fight you want to get involved in.”

 

“Get out,” John said quietly. “Both of you, just get out of here, now.”

 

He was close enough behind Rodney for his body heat to seep through Rodney’s thin shirt. But whereas before that alone would have been enough to start him thinking about sex, now Rodney suppressed a shudder. John was a liar, he’d told people about him, about _them_. The fucking bastard. Edging a few steps away from John didn’t make him feel any less betrayed, but at least he didn’t have to deal with the body heat issue anymore.

 

“Okay then, Johnny-boy,” Patrick said, the smile still on his face. 

 

John looked like him, Rodney realized dully. Same cheekbones and skin tone. The hair and the hazel eyes must come from his mother’s side.

 

“We’ll leave you with your friends. Maybe they’ll be understanding, but I doubt it.” Patrick nodded amiably to everyone in the shop, then turned to leave. “By the way, Johnny, I meant it, if you want a job, all you have to do is ask. You were doing really well, this place will be a goldmine in no time, trimming off the excess fat is kind of your specialty, isn’t it? Maybe next time you can find more people for me to fire. I love it when you save me money.”

 

With that he left, David Sheppard trailing after him. He shot an apologetic glance at John and shrugged helplessly, _‘what can I do?’_ John shook his head and looked away from his brother. David’s shoulders slumped and he left, looking remarkably like a kicked puppy.

 

The bell tinkled as the door closed and silence fell again in the little shop.


	7. Chapter 7

Rodney spoke first, words bubbling up out of him like a fountain. “Was anything you said to us not a lie? Were you laughing at us? You think we’re pathetic, right? We’re not like you, we don’t have rich daddies to fund us, we actually have to work for a living. And you...” he swallowed and tried to make his scrambled thoughts into words. “You lied to us and told stories about us behind our backs. You’re a fucking snake.” 

 

“Rodney,” John stretched out a hand but Rodney stepped away. John winced and rubbed the back of his neck, then said, “I know you probably won’t believe this, but I’m sorry.” He glanced around the room, “Really. I didn’t want to do this but my dad’s a malicious bastard and he had me over a barrel, I didn’t have much of a choice.”

 

“Bullshit,” Lorne said softly. “Of course you had a choice. You could’ve gone and got a job someplace else. I think you enjoyed being a spy. Did you get off on watching us or something?”

 

“No!” 

 

“But you told your father to fire Todd?” Elizabeth spoke calmly but it was easy to see the emotion behind her eyes.

 

“No,” John said again. “I told him Todd was good at his job, that the House of Horrors was, for want of a better word, terrifying. He twisted it, like he twisted everything else I told him. I guess he figured firing Todd would be funny. Just another way to get back at me.”

 

“I don’t think Todd found it funny,” Rodney said. The more he listened to John try to excuse himself, the angrier he was becoming. “I think Lorne’s right. I think you enjoyed playing James Bond, the spy behind enemy lines. But really you’re just the kid in the playground who tells tales and gets other people into trouble. You’re pathetic.”

 

“Rodney...” John began, a pleading tone to his voice now.

 

“No,” Rodney cut him off. “We’ve all heard enough of your stories. You’re a fucking liar and I don’t want anything to do with you. You’re as bad as your father.”

 

“That’s not true,” John stepped closer, crowding Rodney against the cake cabinet. “I’m nothing like him, you hear me?” His fists were still clenched at his sides and Rodney wondered for a panic-stricken moment whether he was about to get hit. But Ronon’s ham-sized hands fastened onto the front of John’s shirt and plucked him away like he was a ragdoll.

 

Ronon pushed John around the counter out into the centre of the shop. John looked a little worried but stood straight when Elizabeth spoke.

 

“From what I understood of the conversation we just witnessed, you apparently quit working for your father last night, is that right?”

 

John nodded tensely, his eyes on Rodney.

 

Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest. “Then you no longer work here. Ronon, please escort Mister Sheppard off the premises.”

 

Rodney ignored the pleading look on John’s face, it was too painful to consider the idea that he might be hurting too. “Give me my apron back.”

 

John dragged the Beanery apron off and tossed it onto the counter without a word. Ronon moved to stand behind him and together they left the shop.

 

Zelenka puffed out his cheeks when they’d gone. “Well, that was different.” 

 

Rodney wiped a hand across his face, dimly noticing that it shook slightly. He was very rarely lost for words, but his brain seemed to have gone blank. Only one thing kept revolving around in there, _had John ever liked him at all? Or was it just a ploy to get information out of him about the park?_

 

“Rodney?” Teyla’s kind voice made it through the fog of self-pity which was starting to form in his head. “Are you all right?”

 

“What?” he said faintly, then shook his head to clear it. “Yeah, fine. Um, thanks.” He stared at her for a moment, then said, “You knew, didn’t you? You said there was something off about him all along.”

 

“No,” she laid a gentle hand on his. “I felt there was some kind of confusion in him, that he was not comfortable with what he was doing, but I was not aware of the extent of his deception.”

 

Rodney gave a half-hearted laugh which sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Teyla the Psychic, right?”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“Jesus, I feel like an idiot.” Rodney leaned his elbows on the counter and buried his face in his hands.

 

“Hey, he took us all in,” Lorne said. “Not just you, dude.”

 

“You weren’t sleeping with him,” Rodney knew there was an edge of hysteria to his voice now but didn’t try to fight it. Hysteria was fun sometimes. “I was the dumb schmuck he talked into his freakin’ bed.”

 

“True,” Zelenka said, nodding. 

 

Elizabeth shot him an annoyed look and said, “Rodney, I’m sure this will all look better in the morning. Why don’t you go home and get some rest? The shop can stand to be closed for one afternoon.” The thought that Sheppard senior could also stand to lose an afternoon’s profit hung clearly in the air, but she was too professional to say it.

 

“Yeah, home,” Rodney said miserably. Going back to his empty apartment didn’t appeal in the slightest but he couldn’t think of anything better to do. “Guess I’ll be back in the morning. If anyone sees John, don’t mention me, okay?”

 

They all nodded. Feeling a little like a condemned man, Rodney gathered his things and shuffled between them, out of the shop and into blessed fresh air.

 

# # #

 

Walking around solved nothing and made him tired. Walking was for idiots, why else had the car been invented? Whoever decided a walk cleared the mind was obviously a fool and if he were still alive, Rodney seriously debated writing a strongly worded letter to him, debunking his theory in no uncertain terms. Eventually his feet led him back to his apartment building and he wearily climbed the stairs.

 

Every step echoed on the stairwell, each thud as his foot met the floor seeming to reinforce that he was alone, going back to his empty apartment, alone. No John. John, the bastard. Handsome but a liar. He should have known not trust anyone that cute.

 

Rodney had turned his cell phone off earlier in the afternoon after rejecting four calls from John. So it didn’t come as much of a surprise to walk into his hallway and find him sitting on the floor outside his front door. 

 

“Rodney,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “Before you say anything, I’m sorry, I was an idiot, I should have been straight with you from the start, I know. Believe me, I feel like an absolute asshole, I should never have come back home after I got out of the Air Force, but I didn’t know what else to do. And then Dad gave me this whole speech about how he was the one who bought me out of a court martial for disobeying direct orders and insubordination. He said I owed him.” He sighed and waved his hands vaguely, “Maybe I did, I don’t know, it’s all fucked up. But, I’m sorry, I really am. Can we...I mean, do you think we could...are you ever not gonna hate me?”

 

“It’s debatable,” Rodney said shortly and hip-checked John out of the way. He opened the door and turned, blocking John’s path. “You’re right on two points though. Yes, you are an idiot and yes, you are an absolute asshole. Goodbye.”

 

He stepped back and slammed the door in John’s dismayed face. His heart thundered against his ribs and leaning his forehead against the thin wood seemed like a good idea. Sucking in deep breaths, Rodney waited for the roaring in his ears to fade. Far from making him feel better, insulting John had only succeeded in making him feel like a jerk. Maybe he should open the door and let John come in, talking couldn’t hurt, could it? 

 

No. He abruptly straightened and turned away from the door. John was a liar, he’d lied before, he could do it again. He was probably like his father, smooth and slippery, ready to wriggle out of being responsible for anything. 

 

With a curse, Rodney pushed the slide bolt home on the door and stalked into the kitchen. He wasn’t hungry but the world was retreating to an odd distance, so he knew his blood sugar was dropping. Every cupboard he looked in contained food which John had bought and stashed away for a hypo emergency. Rodney grabbed a Snickers and took it to the living room. Proper nutrition be damned, what he needed was sugar, good old fashioned chocolate and some nuts thrown in for good measure.

 

Was anything John had said and done the truth? he wondered miserably as he ate. Had he deliberately wormed his way into Rodney’s life and bed just to get information about what went on around the park? Surely not, John wasn’t that sneaky and low. Wasn’t he? It wasn’t as though he’d been truthful about anything else, pretending to be charming and interested in Rodney probably wasn’t that much of a stretch of his acting talents. 

 

Rodney’s stomach twisted as he remembered many nights spent making out on the very sofa he was sitting on. Damn, he’d have to get rid of it. He liked that sofa, too.

 

“Fucker,” he muttered, patting the cushions affectionately. “Parting a man from his sofa. Sheppards are bastards.”

 

It was still early but he went to bed, unable to sit on the couch any longer. It taunted him with memories and that kind of pain was something he usually tried to avoid. Being in bed wasn’t any better, but at least the memories were more R-rated and he could pretend he was just imagining porn.

 

Eventually, after hours of tossing and turning, he dozed off, still wondering whether John had ever liked him at all. Or had following his father’s orders had led him to sleep with another guy out of a bizarre sense of duty? Rodney’s worries followed him into his dreams, tormenting him mercilessly.

 

# # #

 

John stood outside Rodney’s door for a while, his ear pressed against it. He heard Rodney’s footsteps fade away as he went to the kitchen, then come back a few minutes later, then stop altogether. He was probably on the sofa, eating something bad for him.

 

“Shit,” John said softly, looking down at his shoes. How the hell had it all gone so wrong? They’d been okay, actually they’d been better than okay, they’d been great. Now everything was in tatters and he was the one left out in the cold. 

 

Not for the first time, he wished he’d been born into another family. The Sheppards were renowned for being formidable businessmen, ruthless and willing to do pretty much whatever it took to get to the top. His father was the worst of them, he seemed to have taken every bad quality from the family line and consolidated them into a character which was frankly poisonous to family and business rivals alike. Was it any wonder John had decided to buck the trend and run off to enlist?

 

John rubbed a hand over his chin, feeling stubble rasp against his palm. The last time his beard had grown out to any length, he’d been stuck in the Afghan desert with a downed chopper and Captain Holland. That was what started this whole fuck-up. Why couldn’t he just have followed orders and stayed on base? Why did he have to go haring off in a stolen helicopter, righteous determination to save his friends burning in his veins? Why did they have to be dead when he got there? Why did Holland have to be too badly wounded to move, why did the rebels have to be watching the crashed chopper, why did he and Holland end up in a firefight to end all firefights...? 

 

He thunked his head against Rodney’s door. Life was too fucking complicated. Maybe the military was right, maybe he did have a dangerously developed hero complex. Heroes never got the happy ending, he knew that, he’d watched enough superhero movies. They always ended up alone and miserable. Maybe that was what he deserved, he had lied to everyone after all. He was a lying liar who lied and Rodney hated him. Probably he should have expected that from the beginning. 

 

But just for a while, he’d begun to allow himself to think that maybe he and Rodney were actually going to be okay together. It felt pretty natural, bumbling around with him. They sniped at one another, argued, spat insults as other people used endearments but deep down, John really thought perhaps Rodney cared. Maybe he had, but it was all gone now. Because John was a liar and he told stories behind Rodney’s back. 

 

He sniffed. It was all his father’s fault. He was the one who should suffer, but he wouldn’t. Patrick Sheppard was good at making sure other people took the fall. John knew he should have expected to be thrown to the wolves from the very start but as ever, he’d hoped being Patrick’s son would count for something, buy him some kind of leniency. As ever, he was wrong.

 

There had to be a way to get back into Rodney’s good books. Maybe he should start with the other Atlantis staff, get them back on his side and then try to convince Rodney that he was truly sorry. Ronon. He and the big man had hit it off pretty well, they were as close to being friends as John allowed himself to get these days. Ronon also wasn’t as dumb as people expected him to be, so explaining himself to him might not be easy and would probably involve a punch or two, but if it got John back with Rodney in the long run...

 

He nodded to himself and made for the stairs with one last sad look at Rodney’s firmly closed door. As he strode across the small lobby, he collided with someone much smaller than him. 

 

“Sorry,” he said automatically, grabbing the other person till they got their balance back.

 

“It is all right, John,” Teyla said.

 

“Teyla?” John raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I came with the intention of visiting Rodney,” she said slowly, looking him up and down. “But I believe you are more in need right now.”

 

“In need of what?” John asked, feeling a little lost already.

 

“Help,” Teyla said and smiled.

 

“No offense, but why would you wanna help me?” John sighed glumly and scuffed his feet on the worn linoleum. “I’m the bad guy, remember? The lying liar. Corporate scumbag of the first order. Dumb idiot blindly following daddy’s orders. Absolute asshole...”

 

“John.”

 

He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, I know. I’m having a pity party, let me get on with it.”

 

“John,” Teyla said again, her tone that of a disapproving schoolteacher. “You are not the type of man to indulge in self pity. You are a man of action.”

 

“So?”

 

“So take action.” Teyla was too much of a nice person to add the clearly intended ‘dumbass’ to the end of her sentence.

 

“What do I do?” John asked, throwing his arms wide. “He won’t talk to me, he slammed the door in my face. Nobody else from Atlantis will even look at me. What the hell am I supposed to do to make this gangfuck go away?” 

 

Teyla cocked an eyebrow. John dropped his gaze from hers. “Sorry. Forget I’m not in the military anymore. That was always one of my favorite cuss words. Sums up my life pretty succinctly.”

 

“And we return to self pity.” Teyla shook her head minutely. “Come with me, John. You need to eat and rest. Tomorrow we will work on getting you back into Rodney’s good books.”

 

“Good luck with that,” John mumbled as she linked her arm through his and led him out of the door. “Not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but, why are you helping me?”

 

“Because you are a good soul,” Teyla replied simply, smiling up at him. “And because you are genuinely sorry for the harm you have done.”

 

“Teyla the Psychic,” John almost cracked a smile himself.

 

“Perhaps,” she replied. “Perhaps.”

 

# # #

 

Teyla firmly but kindly pushed John into the diner booth and sat down opposite him while he ate. He didn’t really feel hungry but his years in the military had taught him to eat when the opportunity presented itself.

 

It had been a while since he’d talked about himself so much, he felt slightly wiped out. After the whole debacle in Afghanistan, talking had seemed like too much effort. Silence was easier and people learned to accept it. 

 

Thoughtfully chewing on a fry, he let his mind drift back to Nancy. She really had been a nice girl. She’d deserved better than him, though. Divorcing him was probably the best thing she could have done. He’d been a terrible husband, the less in control he felt at home, the more he threw himself into his career, accepting missions he wouldn’t even have considered before. Anything to get away from the monotony of home life, because that would drive him crazy, it was absolutely certain. But Nancy saw it as constant attempts to escape her, which he supposed was partly true. Maybe his dad was right, underneath it all, he was just a bastard like the rest of the Sheppards.

 

“No.” 

 

John looked up and saw Teyla frowning at him. “What?”

 

“You’re beating yourself up again. Stop it. It is not constructive.”

 

“How did you...” John pointed a fry at her accusingly, “Can you read minds?”

 

She laughed, “Of course not, John. Nobody can ‘read minds’, that is purely the realm of science fiction. You were mumbling under your breath. I can hear. No mind reading involved, sorry.”

 

“Oh,” John looked back down at his half eaten burger. “I knew that.”

 

“You are not such a bad person, John.” Teyla laid a hand on his and squeezed gently. “I think you merely let yourself be manipulated by those who know of the guilt you carry.”

 

“My dad,” John said. 

 

Teyla nodded. “Has he always been so....controlling?”

 

“Yeah,” John sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “He treated me and Dave like we were employees rather than his own kids. We had everything we wanted, but it wasn’t like...”

 

“What?”

 

“Wasn’t like having a proper family.” John picked up his paper napkin and slowly began shredding it. “Guess that’s why I enlisted. Plus I wanted to fly.”

 

“Did your father object to you not following in his footsteps?”

 

“Oh God, yes.” John smiled at the memory of that fight, even though there was nothing nostalgic about it. “Threatened to disown me. Guess he never quite got round to it. If he took me out of the will, he’d have to find someone else to give my share of the company to. And as much as he hates me, he hates everyone else a load more.”

 

Teyla went very still. Her eyes were locking on his, John wasn’t sure whether to look away or not. Was she having some kind of vision? Before Atlantis he’d never put any stock in people who predicted things or said they could sense things, but Teyla...Teyla was different. Something about her made him want to trust her. Like she didn’t have an agenda where the rest of the world did. She seemed, for want of a better word, good.

 

“Uh, Teyla?” he said cautiously. “You okay?”

 

“I am fine, thank you, John,” she replied with a smile. “I was merely thinking.”

 

John raised his eyebrows, “About me?”

 

“About your share of Atlantis.”

 

“I’m not marrying you,” John said instinctively. 

 

“John,” Teyla said, the schoolteacher look back on her face. “Do not be ridiculous. I am not interested in gaining corporate power for myself. Besides, you love Rodney. I do not thinking marrying someone else would be good for you.”

 

“I...what?”

 

“You love Rodney.”

 

“Do I?”

 

“Do you not?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe. He’s great. But annoying.”

 

“If he were perfect, you would not love him.”

 

“I hate that you’re right so often.”

 

“It is a curse at times.” Teyla’s face was serious but her eyes danced. “You and Rodney are a good match. You balance one another out. But this is not the time to think of romance. Now we must decide on a course of action to combat your father.”

 

John moodily selected another fry. Taking down his dad, yeah, that was really going to happen. Even between them, he and David couldn’t do it...

 

“Oh my God, you’re right.”

 

Teyla smiled. 

 

“If we can talk Dave into helping us, he’s got the same share of the company as me. If we worked together, we could talk to the board and try to get them to lock Dad out.”

 

“How much of Atlantis do you both hold?”

 

“Twenty percent each.” John flashed a brief smile, hope flaring bright inside him for a moment. “Together we’d almost be the majority shareholders. At least it’d be enough to get the board members into a room and try to get a vote of no confidence against Dad. Then we could lock him out of the business and take over ourselves.” He felt giddy, elated all of a sudden. Having a plan always made him feel better.

 

“Did you father never imagine that one day you might band together to work against him?” Teyla delicately stole a fry and ate it.

 

“Dave and I never really had much in common,” even saying it, John felt a little guilty. “He’s younger than me and by the time he was old enough to be interesting, all I wanted to do was learn to fly and get away from Dad. I don’t think Dad ever thought we’d talk to each other long enough to do any damage to him. Plus Mom made a stipulation in her will that we always get at least a twenty percent share of any business Dad owns, so he didn’t really have much of a choice about giving it to us.”

 

He stopped and blinked. “That’s the first time I’ve mentioned Mom in years.”

 

Teyla’s thumb stroked his hand. “I am sorry you lost her.”

 

John swallowed down the lump which threatened to overwhelm his throat and nodded. “Thanks.” Not talking about things was easier. Talking about bad stuff made it real. If he closed his eyes and pretended very hard he could still hear his mother’s voice, reading him a bedtime story. Telling people she was gone destroyed that fantasy and even at his age, he wasn’t ready for that.

 

“Come on,” Teyla tugged him to his feet and slid out of the booth. “You need some sleep. Tomorrow we will go and visit your brother. Do you know where we can find him?”

 

“Atlantis penthouse,” John replied with a wry smile. “I bet you all thought I lived there, huh?”

 

“The thought did cross my mind,” Teyla admitted. 

 

John shook his head. “Nope, that’s Dave’s place. Dad gave me an apartment not far from the park. Well, I say apartment, it’s more of a hovel. Good thing I slept in worse places in the Air Force.”

 

“Then you will stay with me, tonight,” Teyla said, her tone brooking no argument.

 

“Okay,” John replied, privately glad he didn’t have to spend the night alone with his thoughts. “But I think I snore, so, sorry in advance.”

 

“Do not worry, John,” Teyla smile was a little wolfish. “I know Escrima.”

 

John had been on the receiving end of enough of her ‘lessons’ to know that she was dangerously good with those sticks. “I’ll snore quietly,” he promised.

 

She laughed. “I would appreciate it. It has been a very trying day for all of us.”

 

“No kidding,” John muttered. Whether tomorrow would be an improvement was questionable, but surely it couldn’t get any worse.


	8. Chapter 8

Rodney woke up to a warm body curled next to him. For a moment, in his sleep-fuddled state, he thought it was John and curled and arm around it. Then he realized it had more fur than John. Oh, it was only Newton. He sighed and rubbed a finger beneath the cat’s black chin. He loved Newton, he really did. But he didn’t want to wake up next to a cat for the next decade or so. John was a lying jerk but waking up next to him had gotten to be the high point of Rodney’s day, give or take an orgasm or two. But could he ever actually trust John again, given how easily lies seemed to fall from his lips? Lips...soft, warm eminently kissable lips...

 

“Newt, we’re screwed.”

 

Newton purred but didn’t offer any kind of argument to the ‘we’re screwed’ theory. 

 

Rodney rolled out of bed, leaving Newton to scurry onto his pillow and knead it obscenely with his neat little paws. Rodney resolutely ignored the spasm his heart gave, Newton hadn’t done that for ages. He’d taken to doing it to John’s pillow, Rodney was sure John’s hair gel had some kind of catnip in it. He’d come home one day to find Newton making sweet love to the pillow, his eyes were rolled back in his head and everything. Now, seeing him make a little nest in the dent where Rodney’s head had rested made him feel even more lonely.

 

Staggering to the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and grimaced. Circles under his eyes? Check. Defeated expression? Check. Downward slant to his mouth? Definitely. Shit.

 

“Do I have to go to work today, Newt?” Rodney called. “Can’t I just stay here and we’ll order take out? I’ll get you sushi. There’s work we can do, I’m inches away from a decent theory of wormhole travel, I know it. I just need to check the math again...” he trailed off. John checked the math. Buggeration. “I could just ask him to look over the paper for me...” he muttered, but stopped, glaring at himself in the mirror. “What the fuck? One minute you hate the guy, the next you want him to check your math, what the hell is wrong with you?”

 

Newton wandered into the bathroom, curled himself around Rodney’s calves twice, glanced disdainfully at the water Rodney was now splashing on his face, and left. 

 

“Thanks,” Rodney said darkly. “You’re a lot of help. I should trade you in for a dog, at least they’re loyal. You left me for hair gel.” Not that John needed catnip hair gel to make animals like him, every creature they’d come across seemed to adore him on sight. People too. It was easy to love John, less easy to forgive him for being a lying shit.

 

Rodney’s cheeks flamed at the thought of John telling his father about the two of them taking ‘joint breaks’ in the back room of the Beanery. God, he’d never live down the shame.

 

“Okay, I’m not going anywhere today!” he yelled, and heard Newton yowl in surprise. “I’m staying here, if Patrick fucking Sheppard or either of his fucking sons have a problem with that, they can shove it.”

 

He stormed into the living room, flicked the TV on, angrily scrolled through the sports channels and found some mindless sci-fi to watch. Maybe if he OD’d on TV things would seem a little more cheerful.

 

# # #

 

“Will we be able to enter the Atlantis tower unchallenged?” Teyla gazed at John over her plate of egg white omelet.

 

“Probably,” John waved his spoon around vaguely, then returned to his Frosted Flakes. “The security guys know me as, well, me, so hopefully they won’t find it weird that I’m there.” He scooped more cereal into his mouth then spoke around it, “Hopefully Dave’ll be there and talk to us.”

 

Teyla smiled and sipped her orange juice.

 

“What?” John crunched.

 

“Nothing,” she replied. “It is just, you seem happier now that you have a plan of action.”

 

John shrugged and reached for the coffee. “I’m a pilot, I don’t like feeling lost.”

 

“And Rodney?”

 

Leaning back in his chair, John set down his spoon and said, “I don’t know. He’ll probably never forgive me, you know what he’s like when he gets a bee in his bonnet. But regardless of that, this is the right thing to do, if Dave and I can lock Dad out of the company, we can put right the stuff he messed up. It might not seem like much, Lorne’s cars for example, but the guy loves those things. I’ve never seen anyone enjoy his job the way Evan does. It’s not fair that Dad ruined it for him. And Todd, he was only doing what he was told to do, and he got fired for it. I’ll put it right, I promise.”

 

“Do you enjoy being a hero, John?”

 

John’s breath caught in his chest a little. Images of Afghanistan flashed into his mind’s eye. The crashed chopper, lifeless bodies of his friends, Holland’s face as he fought to contain the pain. 

 

“No.” He squeezed Teyla’s hand as she slid it into his. 

 

“You are a good man, John, never doubt it.”

 

“Thanks.” Mustering his usual bravado and wearing it like armor, he pushed back from the table and said, “We should go, Dave’s an early riser.”

 

# # #

 

David Sheppard was indeed an early riser, when he opened the penthouse door to John and Teyla, he was already dressed in an impeccable suit with a tasteful blue tie. It was barely seven in the morning, but he looked ready to face the day, were it not for the unhappy set of his mouth and the worry lines around his eyes.

 

“John,” he said, stepping backward in surprise. “I didn’t expect...the concierge didn’t call to say you were on your way up. I was just having breakfast.”

 

“Beat you to it for once,” John tried a friendly smile on for size, hoping it didn’t look more like a grimace. “Frosted Flakes, the breakfast of kings.”

 

“Johnny,” David winced, then smiled a little. “I hate that you got the good metabolism.”

 

“Sorry about that. Can we come in? We, er, need to talk to you.” John shuffled from one foot to the other, acutely aware of his loathing for business discussions.

 

David hesitated for a moment, then held the door further open. “Sure.”

 

John had been in the penthouse before, but it still impressed him. It was all airy glass windows and natural daylight. The grey-blue color scheme was in keeping with the ‘Atlantis’ theme but the decor was more futuristic alien race than ancient scrollwork.

 

“Sorry Dad didn’t let you stay here,” David said, looking intensely embarrassed. “When you got back from overseas, I told him to give this place to you, but you know what he’s like. Tell him to do one thing and you can bet he’ll do the other.”

 

“He’s a bastard,” John said frankly, ignoring David’s flinch. “Which is why we’re here. We need to talk. Does he have this place bugged?”

 

“Not anymore,” David flashed a quick smile. “You’re not the only one with skills, Johnny.”

 

John chuckled, “Nicely done. Bet that pissed him off.”

 

“But he can’t yell at me without admitting he had the place bugged to begin with, so, for once, I win.” David politely gestured for John and Teyla to sit down, then said, “So, what do you want me for?”

 

“We want to lock Dad out of the business.” John figured bald and blunt was the best way to go. “Will you help?”

 

David swallowed and looked down at his perfectly manicured fingernails. John had always been slightly jealous that Dave got the good hands, whereas his were long and a bit bumpy. 

 

“He really twisted everything you told him recently?”

 

“Yeah,” John nodded, trying not to think of Rodney’s horrified face. “It’s time he understood that you can’t go screwing with people’s lives just for the fun of it.”

 

“How’s your...er...I mean, the coffee shop guy...is he...are you...not that I’m asking...um...”

 

“He’s not talking to me,” John put David out of his misery. “He rightly thinks I’m a first class dick for telling tales behind his back. Teyla here’s the only one who doesn’t seem to want to lynch me. I’m still not exactly sure why, but I’ll take any allies I can get.” He shot Teyla a grin, she shook her head a little and smiled back.

 

“Mister Sheppard,” she said, turning to David and beaming. “Your brother may have made a few mistakes recently, but I feel he is truly sorry for them. He does not deserve to be a pariah. I believe the blame for the events of the last few months must be laid at your father’s feet. I am sorry to speak of him in such a way, but he does not appear to be the most...thoughtful of people.”

 

David went slightly pink around the ears as Teyla gave him the twinkling eyes as well as the bright smile. John looked at his shoes to hide his own grin. David never had been much good with girls, he got tongue-tied.

 

“Yes, well, he is a little difficult at times,” David stammered. “He’s got a big workload...”

 

“All the more reason for us to take some of the work away from him,” John broke in. “Come on, Dave, you know as well as I do, he’ll squeeze every last drop of profit out of Atlantis, then just move on to the next project that catches his interest. He’s a vampire, he’ll suck a company dry and leave the remnants behind for someone else to clean up.”

 

“And if we do this, if we go to the board and try to lock him out, what happens then?” David’s blue eyes were fixed on John now. “Who takes over Atlantis?”

 

John screwed up his face and ran a hand over his chin. “Honestly, I don’t know. Hadn’t thought much past getting Dad out of the way. If we worked together, I think we’d be the majority shareholders, so we’d be entitled to appoint someone to run the company, right?”

 

“Well, we could recommend someone to the board,” Dave said. “If we put strong backing behind them, I doubt anyone would argue. I don’t think Dad’s made himself any friends among them, they’d probably jump at a chance to get one over on him.” He lowered his voice, “I hear he almost got caught in Lydia Simpkins’ bed. Her husband was furious, I thought he was either going to have a heart attack or hunt Dad down and shoot him.”

 

John guffawed. “Ha! Old Marco Simpkins would’ve scared the shit out of Dad if he’d managed to corner him. I’d have paid to see it.”

 

David gave a small smile, but John saw him shoot a glance at Teyla, obviously wondering whether he was allowed to act like an insensitive male and laugh.

 

“Back to the main point,” John said, saving his brother from his discomfort. “You’ll help us? If we can get rid of Dad, we can fix the stuff he’s been doing. I know they don’t seem like huge things but they upset everyone and maybe if we reverse ‘em...”

 

“I am sure you will be swiftly forgiven,” Teyla finished his sentence for him. 

 

John appreciated her words but wasn’t sure how fast Rodney would forgive being talked about behind his back. Maybe one day he’d allow John back into his apartment. Whether he’d ever make it as far as his bed, well, that was anyone’s guess. 

 

Not that he purely wanted Rodney for the sex, although it had been awesome. Rodney was smart and funny and deliciously sharp-tongued. Bickering was like foreplay for the two of them, a dance neither of them quite knew the steps to but were willing to stumble around at, hoping the end result was something they could both enjoy. Yes, Rodney might be unreasonable at times, big-headed, arrogant, insulting, but behind that was a very caring man just trying to avoid getting hurt. Now John had hurt him and it was almost physically painful to think that _he_ was the reason for Rodney’s unhappiness. John bit his lip, he had to fix this.

 

“Johnny?” David’s voice made it through his thoughts.

 

“Yeah, sorry, zoned out for a minute there,” John shook his head to clear it and saw David looking at him fondly.

 

“You used to do that when we saw airplanes. I’d be talking to you and you’d see a plane and your face would go blank and you’d be lost to the world. I always thought it was the coolest thing, to have something you loved so much you could forget about everything else.”

 

John felt his ears heat up and said a little gruffly, “This is why you’re the businessman, you can actually talk about stuff like that.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“You know,” John waved a hand, “feelings and stuff.” He cleared his throat, even considering talking about such things made him feel like his windpipe was closing up. “Anyway, will you help us, yes or no?”

 

“Yes,” David replied without hesitation. 

 

# # #

 

Rodney’s cell phone buzzed. He glanced disinterestedly at the display and sighed. Teyla. If he didn’t answer it, she’d probably be at his door ten minutes later, demanding to know whether he was all right. Then again, she seemed to be psychic, so she probably already knew how he was.

 

Not that it took a great degree of mental prowess to figure out that he was feeling pretty damn betrayed. Yes, maybe he was over-reacting a little bit but he’d trusted John, hell, he’d been on the brink of loving John, so knowing that their every conversation might have been relayed to Patrick Sheppard was enough to make Rodney want to crawl under his quilt and hide until the sun exploded.

 

His phone kept ringing insistently. Huffing out a sigh, he answered it.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Rodney,” Teyla sounded rather pleased with herself, although what anyone could possibly be happy about, Rodney couldn’t imagine. “How are you?”

 

“Fine,” he said, then yawned. “I’m about to take a nap, was there anything in particular you wanted?”

 

“Rodney, it is not even nine in the morning, how can you require a nap?”

 

“It’s a skill. Why are you phoning me?”

 

“To tell you that John is truly sorry for everything and is doing his best to fix it.”

 

“Oh God, you’re on his side, aren’t you?” Rodney thumped his head back on the sofa cushions. “Are you a Sheppard spy too?”

 

“No, Rodney,” Teyla’s voice was a little sharper now. “But John is a good man and I believe we are doing him a disservice but treating him as though he were poison. He and his brother are working to fix the problem with their father. He is trying to make up for what he did. If you are half the man I thought you were, you will appreciate that and give him a chance to explain his reasons for acting the way he did.”

 

“He already did,” Rodney wished she’d go away now, but being rude to Teyla felt like being rude to his second grade teacher, he just couldn’t do it. “Gave me a load of bull about feeling like he owed his dad for getting him out of a court martial.” He snorted. “I don’t know.”

 

“You do not know because you wish to regard John as the bad guy,” she retorted. “Whereas the real enemy is his father, he is the one who is to blame for all this. John and David are working to right the wrongs. I hope you are a big enough man to appreciate the effort John is making.”

 

“I’m big enough to appreciate that he went and gave his daddy the sordid details of my love life,” Rodney snapped. “And have you forgotten what they told you, work faster or get fired?”

“Rodney,” Teyla’s voice had taken on the exaggerated patience she adopted when she was getting angry. “I do not wish to call you selfish and close-minded but I fear I may have to.”

 

“Fine,” Rodney said, his own temper flaring. “I’ve been called worse. Are you finished, because I’m a very busy man, I have...things to do.”

 

Teyla sighed softly, sadly. “John cares for you, Rodney. I think he cares more than either of you realize. You care for him return. It is not a good idea to ignore such feelings, although I have the distinct impression that both of you will try.”

 

Rodney glared at the wall for a moment before puffing out a sigh of his own. “I don’t know, Teyla. It’s complicated. Just...call me when anything happens, okay?”

 

“Of course, Rodney,” Teyla said formally and disconnected.

 

He sat there for a while, staring blankly at the TV screen. Newton slithered into his lap and lay there, purring hopefully. Rodney ignored him, too lost in his thoughts to notice. Should he follow Teyla’s advice and give John a chance to explain himself? What exactly were John and his brother up to? How could they fix the problem of their bastard of a father? 

 

“Too many questions,” he groaned, standing up and tipping an indignant Newton off his lap. Normally he’d welcome questions but right now they were making his head pound. Besides, looking for answers about John Sheppard was a bit like asking a frog why he croaked rather than trumpeting like an elephant. Interesting but ultimately futile.

 

He made himself a peanut butter sandwich and ate it standing up in the kitchen. Then he staggered back to bed, burrowed under the covers and asked any deity who happened to be listening to wake him when the world had righted itself.

 

Newton sprang up onto the pillow next to him, kneaded it and made himself comfortable amidst the faint smell of hair gel and John. Rodney cracked an eye open. “Traitor.”

 

Newton gave him the superior stare only a cat can manage, then went to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Teyla did not think of herself as an impatient woman but even she was growing restless. John and David had vanished into the cavern-like board room over an hour ago. Apparently the members of the Atlantis board did not mind being summoned, they had arrived at the park with surprising speed. However, since they’d all vanished behind the solid oak doors, Teyla had been alone and unaware of what, if any, progress was being made.

 

She sighed and flipped through the magazines laid out for waiting visitors again. A commotion down the hallway made her look up. A familiar voice was raised in what sounded like anger. Moments later, Patrick Sheppard strode into the waiting room and gave her a glare which should rightly have reduced her to smoking ash.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

She settled for raising an enigmatic eyebrow and inclining her head toward the boardroom door. 

 

Patrick narrowed his eyes at her and made for the door, flinging it open and not bothering to close it behind him. Teyla took the opportunity to slide silently into the boardroom. Well, she had done all the work to get John and David to this point, she deserved to see the ending, did she not?

 

“What the hell is going on here?” Patrick asked dangerously, his eyes sweeping over the assembled board members and coming to rest on John and David. “You two, what are you playing at? You think you can just call and tell me I’m locked out and that’d be that? I don’t think so, kiddies. You’re messing with things you really don’t understand.”

 

“Save it, Dad,” John said, standing up. “We said all we needed to say on the phone. As of ten minutes ago, you’re no longer the CEO of Atlantis Theme Park or its accompanying business. The board agreed that a vote of no confidence was warranted. Unanimously, actually.” He smirked faintly, the John Teyla knew showing through the businessman he’d suddenly become.

 

“Sorry, Dad,” David said, standing up next to his brother, their shoulders brushing. “It’s your own fault, really. If you didn’t make yourself so unpopular, things like this probably wouldn’t happen.”

 

Marco Simpkins growled low and glared at Patrick, who had the decency to flush slightly.

 

“You do realize I have lawyers who will eviscerate you, don’t you?” he said, his gaze returning to his sons.

 

John and David exchanged a glance, both smiling faintly. 

 

“Go for it,” John said.

 

Patrick breathed loudly through his nose for a moment, then abruptly turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, almost knocking Teyla over in the process.

 

David Sheppard caught her arm, which was surprising, how had he moved that fast? 

 

“Are you all right?” he asked breathlessly.

 

“I am fine, thank you,” Teyla replied, smiling up at him. He really was as handsome as John, differently made but attractive nonetheless. 

 

“Dave, stop flirting,” John drawled. “You’re at work, remember? I don’t think joint CEOs are supposed to flirt in boardrooms.”

 

“On the contrary,” David said quietly, his blue eyes on Teyla’s. “I think that’s exactly what we’re supposed to do.”

 

“It worked?” Teyla dragged her gaze away from David’s face and looked at John, who was still smiling. “Your father is no longer...”

 

“Anything. At least as far as Atlantis goes,” John said. “Turns out the board don’t like him any more than we do.” A ripple of laughter went around the table and Teyla felt the atmosphere lighten considerably. 

 

“So you are now in charge of the park?” Teyla asked, her eyes on John but acutely aware of David’s shoulder almost brushing hers.

 

“Looks like it,” John said, a frown clouding his face. 

 

“What?” David asked before Teyla could open her mouth again.

 

John shrugged. “Nothing. ‘S’fine. Are we done here? ‘Cause I’ve got some stuff I need to take care of...”

 

“Go,” David smiled. “If we need you to sign anything, well, your signature’s way too easy to forge. You should really do something about it.”

 

“I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” John muttered, easing himself out from behind the meeting table. He glanced around the board members, who were all looking far more happy now that Patrick was out of the picture. “Thanks for your cooperation. I know it was all a bit rushed, but, these things happen, right?”

 

Murmurs of, ‘no problem’, ‘our pleasure’ and ‘anything we could do to help’, made Teyla smile. John was far more diplomatic than he ever gave himself credit for being. Plus the charm which oozed from his every pore when he wished it, didn’t hurt either. Schmoozing with businessmen might not be his chosen occupation, but he was very good at it.

 

“You sure you can take care of this till I get back?” John asked David. 

 

Dave rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can. I have far more idea of how to proceed from here on out, than you do. Just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean you know everything.”

 

“It totally does,” John grinned, slapping his brother on the the back before turning to make a little bow to the board members. “Once again, gentlemen, thank you for your help, we appreciate it.”

 

He gave Teyla a little smile, and held out his arm. “Can I help you find your way out of this maze?”

 

She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that David’s face fell slightly. After a moment’s thought, she patted John’s shoulder and said, “Thank you, but I may wait here for a while. After all, I do have things to discuss with my new employer.” She smiled at David, who flushed. “I trust the instructions issued by your father are no longer valid.”

 

“Um...” David’s cheeks went an even brighter pink as he cast around wildly for a reply. 

 

John laughed, an odd honking noise, and slapped David’s back again. “I think you got this one, Dave.”

 

He made for the door, new purpose in his stride. Teyla tried to concentrate, to sense something about how Rodney would react to him, for that was obviously where he was going. Her mind remained stubbornly clear about the two men, but a sudden flash of insight told her that David was probably going to ask her to dinner soon. Maybe she should go shopping for formal wear, he didn’t seem like a Burger King kind of guy.

 

As John vanished around the imposing door, she gave him a reassuring smile. He replied with a quick thumbs up, then he was gone.

 

# # #

 

As he walked, John couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit pleased with himself. He’d gotten rid of his dad, well, he and Dave had done it together, he couldn’t claim all the credit. That in itself was weird, working with Dave was strange after so many years of not really noticing him. He deserved more credit, John decided, it probably took more guts for Dave to stand up to their dad than it had for him. He’d been sticking it to Patrick Sheppard for years, making himself the black sheep of the family just because he could. Joining the Air Force had been a way of pissing his dad off as well as a escape route from the interminable business-centric life Patrick had all planned out for him.

 

He still felt like a dick for telling tales on the Atlantis employees, his friends. But maybe, now he actually had the power to change things, he might be able to win a little of their friendship back. Rodney on the other hand was utterly unpredictable. How would he react to learning that John was now technically one of his bosses? 

 

John shook his head, there was no point wondering about it, he wasn’t Teyla. The future didn’t map itself out in front of him, begging him to explore it. He was just like everyone else on the planet, blinding groping in what he hoped was the right direction.

 

Rodney’s apartment building loomed far faster than he expected it to and he stood outside, gazing at it pensively. Throughout his entire military career, fear had always manifested itself as an odd bubbling sensation in his stomach coupled with the urgent need to throw up. He hadn’t felt it since Afghanistan but suddenly there it was, abruptly paralyzing. 

 

“Oh, come on, Sheppard,” he muttered angrily. “Grow up and get in there.”

 

Nodding angrily at his own apprehension, he strode into the lobby and ran up the stairs to the second floor. Rodney’s door was closed, naturally. A hand floated up to knock on it, John noted with detached fascination that it was his own.

 

“What?” Rodney’s voice was sharp and loud behind the door. 

 

“Rodney?” John said, hoping he didn’t sound as hesitant as he felt. “It’s me.”

 

There was silence for a moment before Rodney replied, “Oh.”

 

“Can I come in?” John asked hopefully.

 

“No.”

 

“Please?”

 

“No.”

 

“C’mon, Rodney. Look, I tried to fix things. I talked to Dave, my brother, we got Dad kicked out of the business. He’s not in charge any longer. Rodney?”

 

There was another silence. John resisted the urge to bang on the door, but not by much. “Rodney?” He raised his fist to knock on the wood again, but the door was wrenched open before he had chance.

 

“You stood up to your dad?”

 

Rodney wasn’t looking his best, John had to admit. He hadn’t shaved, the circles under his eyes were so blue as to be almost black and his hair stuck out in all directions. John had never wanted anyone quite so badly as he wanted Rodney right then.

 

“Um,” he scrabbled to regain his train of thought. Oh yeah, convincing Rodney that he wasn’t the devil incarnate. “Yeah, we did. We got the board of directors together and they voted him out, apparently they have even less confidence in him than Dave and I do.”

 

“Huh.” Rodney scratched his chin but didn’t elaborate further.

 

“Well?” John prompted, feeling like his ass was hanging over a canyon and Rodney was slowly pulling away the rope which could save him. 

 

“Well, what?” Rodney frowned.

 

“Don’t I deserve something?” John said, floored by the lack of response.

 

“What do you expect, a victory parade?”

 

“No, but...come on, Rodney, don’t be a dick about this...”

 

“Me be a dick?” Rodney’s eyes were wide with anger and impossibly blue. He snorted and half-smiled. “I don’t believe you, Sheppard. You’re the one who blabbed about the fact we were together and now you call _me_ a dick.”

 

“Rodney...”

 

“No,” Rodney held up a hand, stopping John mid-word. “You’re the one who lied to us, you fucked us all over and you just fucked me, plain and simple. Sorry, but you don’t get away with that.”

 

John leaned in close, anger heating his cheeks. “Now, look, Rodney. I just went and begged the board to fire my dad. I’m now joint CEO of Atlantis, you know what that means?” He didn’t give Rodney chance to answer, “It means I didn’t manage to outrun my dad and his plans. It took twenty years, give or take, but I’m a businessman now, just like he wanted. _I_ never wanted this but I did it for you.”

 

“Yes, how awful for you,” Rodney said coolly, disdain dripping from every word. “You’re in charge of a successful business with access to more money than a regular guy on the street will ever see in his entire life. My heart bleeds.”

 

John gaped, unsure what to say next. This wasn’t going according to plan. Rodney went on mercilessly.

 

“If you’re expecting me to forgive you and say what a hero you are for standing up to daddy, you’ll be waiting a long time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to do.” 

 

He stepped back and shut the door, leaving John to blink at the wood in amazement. Fuck.

 

# # #

 

Rodney’s heart was hammering so hard in his chest, he wondered whether he should call 911 in anticipation of a heart attack. He hadn’t exactly meant to be so brusque with John but all the magnanimous feelings which had accumulated in his head since Teyla had called had vanished the moment he saw him outside the door.

 

Maybe he’d been a little hard on John, he had gone to the trouble of sorting out the mess he’d created. Standing up to someone like Patrick Sheppard couldn’t have been easy...he caught himself walking back to the door and angrily turned toward the kitchen. 

 

No, John had told his father about the two of them, he’d lied to Rodney, lied to them all. He’d gotten Todd fired. In his heart, Rodney knew he was most pissed about John telling Patrick about their blowjob breaks at the Beanery, but being indignant about Todd was a good cover. 

 

Although, no, he wasn’t most pissed about the break thing. If he was honest with himself, he was most pissed that he might have been dumb enough to fall for a honey trap. If John had only been with him because his father wanted him to be. To get the inside gossip as to who worked well at Atlantis, who slacked off and who could be fired without a second thought...Rodney closed his eyes. God, if John hadn’t meant a word he’d said, in bed or out of it, damn, that would be just too painful to take.

 

He had a beer bottle open and halfway to his mouth when there was a soft knock on the front door and John called, “Rodney?”

 

Rodney resolutely ignored him and went to turn the TV on, hoping to drown out the knocking. It didn’t work, John obviously heard the noise and just knocked louder.

 

“Rodney, come on, open the door.”

 

Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and muttered, “Go away, go away, go away,” under his breath like a mantra.

 

“Please, Rodney.”

 

Unwillingly, he opened his eyes and looked at the door. John’s tone had changed. He’d gone from cocky and triumphant to weary. 

 

“Fine,” Rodney found himself saying. “But you’ve only got ten minutes to convince me you’re not a total asshole.” Abandoning his beer, he crossed to the door and unlocked it, then pulled it open. He turned away from it as soon as it began to swing on its hinges, not sure he wanted to see John step into the apartment, that might feel like a small defeat before the war even began.

 

Snatching up his bottle again, he took a long pull and stared at the TV.

 

“You hate game shows,” John said quietly, sitting carefully at the other end of the sofa, as far from Rodney as he could get without being on the floor.

 

“I know my own TV preferences, thank you,” Rodney replied, not taking his eyes from the screen. “Nine minutes.”

 

John ran a hand over his stubble before saying, “Look, I know I screwed up and I’ve said I’m sorry before and it doesn’t seem to have made any difference. So I won’t say it again.”

 

Rodney flicked a glance in his direction, surprised that he wasn’t going to try outright groveling. Sadistic as it was, Rodney had been almost looking forward to that. “So what’s your master plan to convince me of your non-asshole status?” he asked acidly. “And, FYI, eight minutes.”

 

John narrowed his eyes slightly, obviously biting back a caustic retort. He cleared his throat and said in a husky voice, “Two years ago I thought I had it made. I was married to a great woman, I was doing a job I loved, with decent prospects of promotion. I had some good friends, a nice house, great car...everything was good. Now look at me. I’m divorced, living in an apartment no bigger than the bunk I had in basic. I barely escaped a court martial for disobeying a direct order and insubordination. I can’t fly military aircraft anymore and my friends are dead because I didn’t get to them fast enough to save ‘em.” 

 

Rodney huffed and slurped at his beer. “Yeah, and now you’re co-owner of a multi-million dollar business. I can see how that would be a come down for you.”

 

John didn’t appear to have heard him, his eyes were distant and he gnawed on his thumbnail for a moment before continuing. “My dad’s right. When I’m out of friends and money, I come back home. Not through choice, but ‘cause I don’t have any place else to go. I came back here at rock bottom and when he told me he wanted me to do a little spying for him in the park, I figured what the hell, maybe I do owe the guy, perhaps he was the one who saved me from a proper military court ass kicking.”

 

Rodney frowned, “Hold on, how can you blame yourself for your friends’ deaths? I presume they were military too?”

 

John nodded and said scratchily, “Yeah. Their chopper came down, one of ‘em was killed outright. I wanted to go get then but my superiors said no, it was too big a risk. Losing another aircraft and crew would negate any benefit from saving the downed guys. They wanted to let ‘em make their own way home.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t like the sound of that so I went on my own. Found the helicopter, only one of the crew was alive by then, rebels had killed the rest.”

 

“You have such a hero complex, don’t you?” Rodney said, sneaking a sideways glance at him.

 

John didn’t reply, but stared vacantly into space, obviously lost in memories.

 

Rodney looked down at his hands. John wasn’t the type to talk about himself very much, admitting this much had to be bordering on physical pain for him. All the same...

 

“Why are you telling me this?”

 

John shrugged, the careless surfer boy mask falling into place over his tired features. “’Cause I haven’t told anyone else.”

 

“Huh.” Rodney muted the TV. “Okay, so we’ve established that you’re perhaps not a total bastard as far as your military career went, that was a brave thing you did, by the way. But I’m not mad at you for that, remember?”

 

“Just why are you mad at me?” John asked curiously, tilting his head to one side. “I get that you’re pissed I misled you and went behind your back, but you’re more annoyed than anyone else.”

 

“Why am I mad?” Rodney felt anger rise in his blood again. “Are you a genuine moron or just pretending to be?” 

 

John blinked at him steadily. Rodney bit his lip, not really wanting to put his fears into words in case he got the answer he was dreading.

 

“I’m mad ‘cause I’m worried I was incredibly dumb. Be honest with me for once. Did your dad tell you to get cozy with someone from the Atlantis staff? Was anything you did with me the truth or were you just taking one for the Sheppard team? If none of it was real, just tell me, okay? Wouldn’t be the first time I was stupid enough to get fucked before getting fucked over. Just tell me the truth.”

 

He risked a glance at John’s face and saw that his eyes were dark and narrowed. “Say something, for God’s sake.”

 

“What do you want me to say?” John replied roughly.

 

“I don’t know,” Rodney cried, his voice rising. “The fucking truth would be nice, just for a change.”

 

John swallowed and took a deep breath before saying, “If I said it was real, would you care? More to the point, would you believe me?”

 

And there was the kicker. Rodney wanted to believe him. Wanted to be able to look back at their first few weeks together and revel in the shared excitement of discovering one another. He wanted to remember each kiss and secret, heated glance with the joy they deserved. Could he? Or would suspicion always cloud the memories and sour them slightly?

 

“I don’t know,” he said, looking back at the TV, it was easier than seeing the hurt in John’s eyes.

 

John stood up abruptly, his face tight and hard. “Okay. I guess I deserve that.” He walked to the door, then turned back. “Just for the record, it was real, every damn word of it. Sorry I made you think you were dumb. You’re the least dumb person I’ve ever met.” Yanking the door open, he vanished through it, leaving it to swing shut quietly behind him.

 

Rodney sat very still for a moment, then hurled his beer bottle at the TV.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Teyla?” Rodney spoke as soon as he heard the click of the phone connecting. “Teyla, I need some psychic mojo and I need it now.”

 

“Rodney, have you been drinking?” Teyla asked in her usual measured voice.

 

“No, yes, doesn’t matter,” he snapped back. “Is your psychic thingy working? Do I need to cross your palm with silver or something to get the juices flowing?”

 

“Rodney.” 

 

He could practically hear the eyeroll down the phone and half-smiled. “Okay, sorry, I got carried away. But this is bordering on dire emergency. I told John I didn’t trust him and wouldn’t believe him if he said him and me hadn’t been a total lie.”

 

Teyla hissed slightly. “Rodney, that was a little harsh, do you not think? It is obvious how John feels about you. I do not believe for a moment that anything he said or did with you was fabricated.”

 

“How am I supposed to believe that?” Rodney cried, flinging his free hand into the air and pacing around the apartment. “He could be a compulsive liar for all we know.”

 

“He is not,” Teyla said simply. “He loves you but he is proud and if you refuse him now, you will not get him back. Think carefully, Rodney, before you act.”

 

“He...what?” Rodney stood stock still, shocked into uncharacteristic silence.

 

“I sensed it from the beginning,” Teyla said. “John has very deep feelings for you. But I did not wish to believe it as I also sensed a lot of conflict within him. Now of course, we know what the source of that conflict was.”

 

Rodney was still stuck on the ‘John loves me’ part. “Back up, he l...John Sheppard lo...he likes me?”

 

“Yes, Rodney,” Teyla replied patiently.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes, Rodney.”

 

“Oh.” Rodney wondered whether he had anything stronger than beer stashed in his cupboards. He swallowed past a suddenly dry throat. “You, um, you think I should call him?”

 

“Yes, Rodney, I do.”

 

Rodney made a strangled noise and sat down. “Oh God. What do I say?”

 

“Tell him the truth, Rodney,” Teyla’s voice was warm and comforting. “After all, you expect no less from him.”

 

“I don’t know what the truth is,” Rodney mumbled, the admission costing him dearly. Having a clear mind was what made him good at physics, outside influences didn’t screw up his judgment or thought processes. He wasn’t used to having a brain which felt like it had been shoved through a blender and then poured back into his head. But now, just thinking about how he felt about John Sheppard made every thought he had whirl into a multi-colored blaze of unmitigated chaos.

 

“Of course you know what the truth is.” The smile was evident in Teyla’s voice. “Stop thinking so much, Rodney. Just feel for once.”

 

“Right, just feel,” Rodney stammered. “Okay. Um, I think I need to go lie down for a minute. Er, good talk, thanks.” He hung up before Teyla could say another word and stumbled to his bedroom. 

 

# # #

 

The bourbon burned John’s throat as it slid down but turned into a pleasant dull warmth as it hit his stomach. He motioned to the bartender for another and sighed. Life was complicated. Flying was easier. Flying removed things like relationships and concern for other people’s feelings. It was just him and the sky, nothing dragging him back down to earth with a bump. God, he missed it.

 

What should he do now? He already spent far too long wandering around aimlessly after leaving Rodney’s place. Where did he actually live now that Patrick wasn’t in charge anymore? Maybe Dave could find room for him for a while, just so that he could apartment hunt properly. He sighed again and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want to apartment hunt, he wanted to go back to Rodney and fall into bed or just slump on the sofa and watch crap TV with him. 

 

But Rodney wasn’t sure he could trust John and that hurt. Of course, it was entirely his own fault for lying in the first place, but even so. Rodney’s words floated back to him, ‘Wouldn’t be the first time I was stupid enough to get fucked before getting fucked over.’ Who had done such a number on him to make him believe that someone would sleep with him and not have any kind of feeling for him at all? John gripped his glass tightly and pursed his lips. If he could find them, he’d kick their asses into next fucking year.

 

The world began to look a little fuzzy around the edges, the booze was doing its job, smoothing out the hard parts. John’s phone vibrated in his pocket, he debated not answering it but dragged it out in case it was Dave. He was a responsible businessman now, after all, maybe he should act like one. Going to Hawaii and losing himself in surfing seemed like a far better option.

 

“Yeah?” he grunted into the phone, not looking at the display.

 

“Ah,” Rodney’s hesitant voice in his ear made him sit up straight. “I, er, didn’t think you’d answer.”

 

“Oh.” John inwardly cursed himself. ‘Oh’? That was the most eloquent thing he could come up with?

 

“Um,” Rodney breathed down the line and there was a rasping noise which sounded like him running his hand over his stubbled chin. “Look, I know I said some...things, earlier. I...um. I may have been a little hasty. I mean, you’re still a dick for lying to us but...I might not have said the right thing when you asked about...you know, whether I believe you or not.”

 

John swallowed and stared at his glass, swirling the dark liquid around. Should he say something or just let Rodney talk?

 

“For God’s sake, I’m trying to apologize here,” Rodney snapped, sounding far more like himself. “A little cooperation, maybe?” 

 

“Yeah, sorry,” John said quickly. “Um, go on?”

 

“What more do you want?” Rodney’s tone was back to its acidic best. “I said I was hasty.”

 

“And?” John prompted.

 

“And...” Rodney blew out a breath. “And maybe I do trust you, a little bit. If you tell me, unequivocally, that you were only ever with me because of...well, me, okay, I’ll believe you.”

 

John’s heart leaped in his chest and a smile blossomed on his face. “Yes, definitely, I promise. Only ever ‘cause of you, even if Dad had asked me to do something like that, I wouldn’t have. You believe that, right?”

 

“For some reason, yes,” Rodney replied.

 

The smile on John’s face morphed into a full blown goofy grin. “Cool.”

 

“Cool?” There was a thumping noise at Rodney’s end of the phone, John presumed it was his head hitting a table. “Of all the people I could have fallen for, I fell for the one with the vocabulary of a teenager.”

 

“I’m young at heart?” John offered, still smiling madly.

 

“I’m dating an idiot,” Rodney sighed.

 

“Idiot sex is good,” John said cheerfully, tossing the rest of his drink back and standing up. The world tilted for a moment but soon recovered itself. “Um, can I...I mean, do you mind if I...I know it’s a little rushed but, I’d like...”

 

“Oh for God’s sake, get your skinny ass over here,” Rodney said. 

 

“Awesome,” John said fervently, and hung up.

 

# # #

 

On reflection, Rodney thought as he quickly made a take-out cappuccino, life wasn’t too bad. With Patrick Sheppard gone from Atlantis, things soon settled down into a nice regular rhythm again. 

 

Rodney made coffee and abused people’s beverage choices. Teyla read palms and made worryingly accurate predictions about the future. She still helped out in the coffee shop during the afternoons, John had made a sign which now hung directly above the counter. ‘Don’t bother, we know what you want.’ Teyla had smiled and folded her arms when she saw it, but didn’t bother to deny that she was more psychic than she ever let on.

 

Lorne ooh-ed and ah-ed over his bumper cars, they still looked like miniature spaceships, he said he actually liked them that way now. John christened them ‘puddlejumpers’, saying that they were far too dinky to ever make it beyond the Milky Way.

 

Ronon did whatever it was he did, and people still loved him for it.

 

Todd was back in the house of horrors, frightening visitors and staff alike. Stackhouse and Markham were reinstalled at the popcorn stand near the Beanery, much to Rodney’s delight.

 

Even more delightful, in his opinion, was the fact that John was refusing to become a corporate drone. He’d attend board meetings if absolutely necessary, but held firm to the philosophy that Dave was far more capable than him when it came to the nitty gritty business stuff. John had an office in the central Atlantis spire, but it rarely got used for anything more than illicit meetings in Rodney’s lunch break. 

 

Most of the time, John could be found in the Beanery or out in the park itself. He made a good latte and still couldn’t resist poking at machinery. Lorne joked that he was the best paid and most highly qualified handyman anywhere in the US.

 

“I did good, right?” John asked, sliding an arm around Rodney’s waist as they stood behind the Beanery counter. “I fixed stuff, put it all right after I screwed it up.”

 

“You did acceptably, yes.”

 

“Smooth talker.” John smiled but his eyes were dark and hot and made Rodney think of things a man shouldn’t have to think of while he was at work. He ran a finger just inside Rodney’s shirt collar, “So, can we still take those joint breaks or will you tell Dave on me?”

 

Rodney swallowed but didn’t even try to hide the shiver which rippled through him. “I think we can keep this one a secret, don’t you?”

 

John grinned. “Put ‘closed’ on the door. This might take a while.”

 

“Benefits of sleeping with the boss,” Rodney muttered, as he did as he was told. “Unlimited time off for SFT while at work.”

 

“One of the less well-publicized perks of the job,” John laughed.

 

Rodney smiled back. For saying he worked in a coffee shop and his boyfriend was also technically his employer, he was pretty damn happy.


End file.
